


Inclusion

by Sarah Problem (SarahProblem), SarahProblem



Series: Come With Me [21]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Complete, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Kirk/McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/Sarah%20Problem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/SarahProblem
Summary: While waiting their turn for some updating and restocking at Starbase 12, the Enterprise crew is hoping to catch up on the recreational time most of them missed on Pattor. Jim touches base with an old acquaintance, makes a new one, and finds himself with a lot of unwanted attention. McCoy tries to help his husband get through a rough assignment, and hopes that by the time his birthday comes up that things will be back to normal.





	1. Chapter 1

***

Chapter One

***

"I'm _fine_," Doctor Leonard McCoy rasped tiredly. He tried to wave away the small hand-held medical scanner Jim was waving over him. "_Don't_ fuss. It's just a cold. _Leave _already, before you get wrinkled."

He was stretched out on his couch as he had been for the past two days, in his softest pajamas, his almost worn-out robe, and a warm blanket over him. The blanket was a bit of overkill, but Jim had felt it necessary. He was comfortable enough for a healing, full night's sleep. His fever had broken yesterday, his sinuses had quit running like the Nile river, and he'd actually eaten his first full meal in a few days. The dirty plate still sat on the coffee table, along with a PADD filled with novels, more tissues just in case, and the wrist monitor he'd taken off after his fever broke.

His only real concern at the moment was in getting Jim to leave for his party.

"Don't fuss? Says the man who _invented _fussing," Jim said, looking up from the small scanner. Dressed in his Blues, his cap on the table and ready to go, Jim sat on the thin edge of the couch by McCoy's middle. "The man whose _picture_ appears in the Federation Standard dictionary under _'Mother Hen'. _And you think_ I'm_ fussing, just by running a_ scanner_ over you?"

"I _told_ you I'd be fine when I got sick. M'Benga's _told_ you I'd be fine," McCoy said gruffly, lifting his head only to wince and lay it back down on his scrunched-up pillow. The residual headache hadn't quite left. Not quite. "A Mandellan cold just has to run its course."

"It must have been all that time in the river."

"It must have been all that time on _Pattor_," McCoy countered with a weak huff.

"You had _water _in your lungs. _River _water. Full of living things and their waste."

"That was days ago," McCoy protested grouchily. "Maybe I caught it while I was in the hospital, trapped in a room with dozens of other doctors during the lectures. We were all living petri dishes, just waiting to spread the wealth. Could have gotten it from anywhere on the planet."

"And you weren't vaccinated for it?"

McCoy sighed. "Jim, we can't even vaccinate against the thousands of varieties of the _Human_ cold that have mutated through history, let alone _every other_ Human compatible virus that exists on other planets. If it's not overly fatal, then those get shoved way down on the list of things we worry about. No species can be vaccinated against _everything_. We have to choose carefully. But now that you and the rest of the crew have gotten your shots, the three of us who brought it on board should be the last of it."

"_Overly _fatal?"

"There are always exceptions," McCoy said with a sigh. "I'm _not _one of them. I should be back to normal by tomorrow morning. I plan on going back to work. M'Benga will let me. So there."

"Well, you could have a relapse," Jim said worriedly. "Maybe I should stay--"

"Oh,_ no_ you don't," McCoy interrupted. "You don't need to stay in and babysit. Stocker is expecting you at that Captain meet-n-greet thing. You need to _go_."

Jim sighed. "I guess I should."

McCoy noticed that Jim had been dragging his feet about the party all afternoon. Since it was for Captains and First Officers from several of the larger ships in and around Starbase 12, Starfleet and civilian, Federation and friendlies, McCoy hadn't been invited to attend. So his illness wasn't an issue.

But how Jim felt about it was.

"You don't _want_ to go." McCoy gave Jim a sympathetic look. He reached out a hand to rest it on Jim's wrist. "You still upset about Starfleet's new recruitment project? Or is it more than that?"

A week ago, Admiral Roberts had given the _Enterprise_ orders to take supplies to Starbase 12, see to some repairs, and to take a week off. The time off the ship had missed at Pattor. That had been welcomed news. Any time they could get the crew off the ship for a few days helped moral. And it would give Jim a chance to meet up with Commodore Stocker again. They'd all met on Risa, when Jim had saved Commodore Stocker's life, and they'd gotten to know each other a bit. Jim liked Stocker, and the Commodore had earned even more brownie points in Jim's eyes when he'd arranged to get the_ Enterprise_ a few extra days off.

Commodore Stocker had taken over as the Starfleet Commanding Officer of Starbase 12, and had reportedly been doing a great job in the almost two and a half years since then.

The bad news had come for Jim, personally, and had seemed to come from out of the blue. He'd been informed that Starfleet Brass had decided to go ahead with a new approach to their recruitment program. And part of that was to tap into the new wave of interest over the thirty-year anniversary of the _Kelvin_'s loss, the _Kelvin Baby's_ thirtieth birthday, and the stellar accomplishments of Captain James T. Kirk.

Who seemed to carry some celebrity status not only because of his birth, but also by the Enterprise's actions, and then bolstered by the strange arrest warrant issued for his husband, just over a year ago.

The Brass had decided that if they couldn't beat them, they'd join them. It was agreed that _James Tiberius Kirk_ would be the new focus of the recruitment push. Which meant a lot of exposure, interviews, and a tie-in documentary deal with a news-team following Jim around for a week to record his life. Some of it, the interviews, the filming of the documentary, and some pre-January recruitment pushes would start soon. The finished products were planned for a public release in January, on the _Kelvin's_ anniversary and Jim's birthday.

Precisely the kind of over-blown, intrusive, and uncomfortable attention Jim _never _wanted to have. Attention that was bound to spill onto Sam and his family as well as McCoy. Which was why Jim had gotten Robert's permission to give his brother a _'heads up'_ on the new situation. He didn't want the family blind-sided by it. Especially John. Both Jim and Admiral Roberts had thought the new promotion was a terrible idea. But there it was.

"It's _embarrassing_," Jim said with a grimace.

"Jim, I know you didn't ask for that kind of attention, but you have nothing to be embarrassed about." McCoy squeezed Jim's wrist. "But it's not just that, is it? Chekov isn't the only one feeling a bit out of place because of his age. The odd-man-out."

Jim sighed, and McCoy knew he'd hit the nail on the head.

"It's probably petty, on my part," Jim said.

"No, it isn't. In any group there is a clique," McCoy insisted, frowning. "Getting a Starship so young, you bypassed a lot of people waiting for a Starship Command. And yes, you had it yanked away from you, but you earned it back. But those existing Captains, or those newly promoted Admirals, probably didn't take too kindly to you getting the _Enterprise_ the first time, and question the second time just as much. They weren't let in on the dirty details. Then, during the refit after stopping Kahn, they stuck you in a back building, away from the other Captains and Brass on Earth. I could tell, it made you feel like the odd man out."

"You make it sound like school," Jim said with a huff.

"Isn't it just like that?" McCoy asked. "Sure, you've made some friends in high places along the way. But how many of them are your peers? You think they deserve the attention more than you do. And maybe they do too."

"I _know_ they do," Jim said softly. He shook his head. "They're the better examples, if there needs to be anyone person singled out. It's one thing to single out a ship, another to spotlight any one person. Starfleet is supposed to be a team effort. The least of us can make the most difference. They won't get that across by singling _me_ out. Nothing done by the _Enterprise_ has been done by me alone."

"And you're afraid you're going to get flak from the other Captains for the new recruitment drive," McCoy added with a sigh. "You're probably right. But they must realize you_ don't_ have a choice in this."

"Which is part of what _pisses me off_," Jim said, then clamped his jaw shut on another wave of frustration. "Sorry. You'd think I'd have ranted enough to get it out of my system by now."

"You had good reason to be pissed," McCoy admitted, frowning. "They didn't give you a choice in whether you wanted to be their new "_Poster Boy_" for recruitment purposes. You need to be out there, in the black, doing your job, and they want you to start doing interviews, sound-bytes, and use your face to represent Starfleet? Now, don't get me wrong, Jim. I think if anyone could represent all that's good about Starfleet, that's you. But they still should have_ asked_ if you wanted to allow the general public into your private life."

"It's_ your_ life too," Jim said grimly. "Just like I told Sam and John in that message. They need to be prepared for too much attention. I'm not sure I'm ready for it all. Although I should have seen it coming. I've been out of the reach of the public so long, I got used to it. Roberts said Starfleet's been getting requests off the charts, wanting access to me. Sam's had the local news-vid teams sniffing around him lately, wanting to interview him. I felt lucky that I was out of their reach for this anniversary..."

Jim sighed. "I never thought Starfleet would sell me out this way. Sell my private life to the highest bidder, like this news-crew that gets exclusive rights to follow me around for a week. I didn't think they were that desperate for better press."

McCoy looked at Jim seriously. "You think Starfleet is that bad off? I know it's always hard to get doctors to join. That's why they're now paying the way for the young-un's to go to medical school, so they'll be obliged for service once they get qualified."

"Admiral Roberts said she didn't think the numbers were that dire, herself," Jim admitted. "But the timing was too good to pass up."

"She tried to fight them off for you?"

"Yeah, I think she's got my back," Jim said with a nod. "She's almost as pissed at being overruled on this as I am to get the assignment."

The door to their cabin buzzed.

"That'll be Spock," Jim said reluctantly. "I'm running late meeting him at the transporter. Come in!"

The door opened on Spock, who was also dressed in his Blues. He walked in, letting the door close behind him, concern on his face. He looked at Jim.

"Captain, has the Doctor had a set-back?"

"I'm right here, Spock. I'm _fine_," McCoy said with a sigh. "Just tired. Jim's not looking forward to this party. Don't let him be late."

"We're not late. Yet," Jim said. He stood and tossed the scanner onto the coffee table. He reached down and grabbed his cap. "It's a _party_, not a meeting. A few minutes delay in arriving can be fashionable. Maybe they won't even miss me."

"You wish," McCoy said with a small smile.

"Actually, I do," Jim said with a shake of his head. He moved closer to McCoy, placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it. He gave McCoy a smile. "Am I taking my health in my hands if I kiss you good-bye? Can I take ill within a few minutes? Give me a good excuse to stay home?"

"No such luck," McCoy said gruffly. He gave Jim a teasing smile. "Give me a kiss, and let me get back to my boring shows. I need something dull to put me to sleep."

Jim gave him a quick kiss, then turned to the door. "Don't wait up."

"Not a chance," McCoy said just before the door slid shut between them.

But they both knew McCoy would be awake when Jim got home, if he had any say in it.

_Stocker likes Jim. Maybe this party is his way of giving others a real glimpse of who Jim really is, rather than what that stupid recruitment project will try to sell him as._

_Jim just needs a chance to make a good first impression. In person._

_And to do that, he just needs to relax, and be himself._

McCoy checked the vidscreen to see if they'd gotten a reply from Sam or John yet. Nothing had come in. He was hoping that Jim would be here when they did reply.

There could be landmines ahead of them all. There were things Sam didn't know, and to hear it from anyone but Jim could be devastating. And Jim hadn't even seemed to realize that yet. McCoy hadn't even thought of it himself until Jim was already getting ready for this party he was dreading. McCoy hadn't seen a need, yet, to bring the subject up.

He may have left it too late.

_When Jim gets back, we need to talk about the landmines Sam should be prepared for. _

_Something he should hear from Jim himself._

_And knowing Sam and his guilt over the way he left Jim behind... _

_It may not go well._

McCoy switched the vid-screen back to some mindless dramas. It was going to be a long, dreary evening.

***

"He will be ill for a few more days?" Spock asked as they headed for the Docking Bay.

"No, he's basically fine now. Just tired. Good news is that he should be in fine form by his birthday," Jim said to Spock. "I'd hate to have his birthday surprise ruined because he was still sick. Fingers crossed that our timing isn't off."

Glancing at Spock, Jim could see Spock's confusion.

"I have never understood that phrase," Spock admitted as they entered the lift. "In what way does crossing one's fingers, when stating a desire, ensure that the desire will be fulfilled?"

"I have _no_ idea," Jim admitted with a smile. "We say it, but hardly ever actually do it. Maybe that's why it doesn't work so well. If you find out, you'll have to let me know."

"I shall endeavor to do so. If I may also ask...?"

Jim recognized Spock's code words for _'can I ask you something personal?'_. He set their destination for the lower level. He glanced curiously over at Spock.

"Sure, Spock. You know you have my permission to ask me anything, anytime. What's up?"

"You do not seem excited to once again meet with Commodore Stocker. I assumed that since our interactions with him on Risa led to a satisfactory conclusion, your interest in how he has fared in his assignment to Starbase 12 would lead to a pleasant reunion."

Jim, Bones, Spock, and Uhura had met Commodore Stocker while on vacation on Risa, where the four of them had helped to rescue stranded touring passengers underground. All while keeping the Commodore himself from being killed by a Romulan assassination team, in order to put their own mole in his place. Which, if successful, could have been disastrous for the Federation. Starbase 12 was not only one of the nearest Federation outposts to both the Klingon and Romulan neutral zones, but was near the Orion Union claimed space and two main trade routes as well. Not only did thousands of ships pass by nearby in any given solar year, but the base itself was the 'homeport' for several of the Federation starships that were assigned patrol duty on the neutral zone borders.

Even if the undercover Romulan had only had access to Starbase 12's essential files, codes, and ship assignments for only a few days until a replacement was found, the loss of security could have been fatal for all ships in the area in case of war. Even now, Jim didn't know if Starfleet Security had rooted out any other undercover Romulans or not. He couldn't imagine that taking one dead and two living spies into custody had been the end of the matter. That the incident hadn't already caused a war, or had become public knowledge, meant that there was a lot more going on behind the scenes than a lowly Captain was going to be let in on.

"I'm interested in seeing _him_ again," Jim admitted as they made their way to the Docking Bay. "I have an appointment with him tomorrow. I'm just not looking forward to this party."

The Docking Bay was busy, getting shuttles ready for use by the crew and for the replenishment of supplies. One of the security procedures Stocker had put into place recently was to keep one operational Starship outside of the drydock area when possible, for quick response to any problems that might head their way.

Jim had heard of reports, from various sources, of strange things happening in this area of space. He could understand Stocker's caution.

Stocker took the security of his starbase very seriously. And that responsibility included not only Starfleet's own members, but all the civilian transport and trade vessels that stopped or passed nearby as well.

"Ah, Captain!" Scotty waved at them from the door to their shuttle.

"We're ready to go, Scotty," Jim called back.

"Do ye mind if Sulu and Chekov share the ride?" Scotty asked as they approached. "It's a few hours early for the first recreational shuttle in, but I didn't think you'd mind if they came along."

"That's fine. The more, the merrier," Jim said, walking past Scotty and into the shuttle.

At the front were Sulu and Chekov.

"Sulu, getting an early start?" Jim asked with a smile as he and Spock walked to the front of the shuttle to join them. Scotty slipped by them to take the pilot's seat. "Ben and Demora make it in, yet?"

"Just a few hours ago," Sulu said with a huge smile, a travel bag at his feet. "I intend to spend as much of the next few days with them as I can."

"I understand that your husband was one of the bio-engineers who helped design Starbase 12's micro-biological system," Spock said.

"He was on the team that designed the forest ecology on the Recreation module," Sulu said, smiling proudly. "Over one hundred and sixty acres of forest, parkland, a boating lake, a fishing pond, an amphitheater, and a stadium... That and the design of the water storage tanks underneath it, along with the choices of flora and insect life, and the recycling machinery that goes along with it... Ben and his team spent _years _designing it."

"I hear it's mighty impressive," Scotty said running through the shuttle's checklist. "_Verra _planet-like. And gives him a reason to come out and check up on his creations."

"And a way to catch up with you," Jim said with a smile. "I'm looking forward to spending some down time there myself. If Bones feels well enough, later."

"Is he going to be okay?" Sulu asked.

"He'll be fine," Jim said. "I just hope he shakes it in time for his birthday. I'd hate to cancel it. But if I have to, I'll let you know. Then maybe you can sneak in some extra time with your family."

"We're almost ready, Gents. Pick a seat and stick to it," Scotty announced suddenly from the pilot's seat.

"What about you, Pavel?" Jim asked, turning to take a seat. "You have something planned?"

"I have some friends here now, from Earth," Chekov said with a smile as he buckled in. "One of my friends ees stationed here. She has promised to show the rest of us the sights."

"Oh, is this a girl _friend_, or a _girlfriend_," Jim asked teasingly. "She's not out to lure you away from the _Enterprise_, to work on the starbase, is she?"

"She ees just a _friend_ as of now," Chekov said with a smile and a shrug. "But she ees very nice and very pretty. She would have to work very hard to convince me to leave the _Enterprise_, but I would not mind her trying to seduce me."

Jim, Scotty, and Sulu chuckled.

As Scotty flew the shuttle out of the _Enterprise'_s bay, he turned it so that Starbase 12 came into view. All of them turned to watch their approach.

"She's a very bonnie lass," Scotty said reverently. "And she's a workhorse. This close to two hostile territories, the Orion Union border, two major trade routes, and with Risa just over the hill, she gets the traffic! Her docking module is_ always_ busy. _Especially_ with the transport blockers on. Otherwise, people would be beamin' into each other, from all sides! I was pouring over her schematics all last night," Scotty said happily. "All six modules together, top to bottom, she's a touch over 3,600 meters long, over a thousand levels. With six living and working modules, serviced by a central turbo core. A lift from top to bottom will take _thirty _minutes!"

"Unless there ees an_ emergency_ situation," Chekov added. "When the lift will make it in_ five_ minutes."

Sulu shook his head with a smile. "I don't think I'd want to be in _that_ lift. Sounds like a messy landing. But why isn't the _Enterprise _docking inside? What did I miss?"

"Commodore Stocker's orders," Jim explained. "For security reasons, the _Enterprise_ is on 'standby' for docking until the _Arrowman_ can leave drydock herself. He wants one available Starship ready to respond to any incident, at a moment's notice."

"I've heard," Scotty said, lowering his voice, "just here and there, that there's been a bit of strangeness in the area. Some ships missing from the travel lanes. Maybe some unusual pirate activity. Blips, rattles, flashes, and other strange bits that ships have been reporting seeing from a distance."

"Nothing concrete?" Sulu asked.

"Nothing that we've been officially warned about," Jim said. He looked at Spock. "Anything on the science channels?"

"None of the reports have been verified so far. And have as such been classified as rumors and speculation," Spock said. "Those who have experienced such phenomena have not yet turned their data over to Starfleet. Without any real sensor data, it has left the Federation with little information to follow up."

"Neutral Zone jitters, is what most on the engineering boards say," Scotty said with a shrug, his attention on getting them set down in the right spot and connected to the port they'd been assigned to. The traffic inside the drydock dome was heavy. "This close to so many hostile forces, people get to seeing things that aren't really there. But Commodore Stocker is said to be a brilliant tactician, so he's probably playing it safe, not putting all his eggs inside the basket."

"Is that who you are going to see?" Chekov asked Jim. "For new orders?"

"A cocktail party," Jim said with a grimace. "For some of the Captains in the area. Lots of drinks, mingling, and talking shop."

"Commodore Stocker believes that getting us all together, on a personal basis," Spock added, "will help foster more trust and cooperation between the Federation and the civilian sector."

"I can see that," Sulu said. "But, honestly, sounds like a snooze fest to me. I'd rather just be off-duty, like one of us lowly grunts."

"Actually, I'd _rather_ be home with Bones, watching boring vids and falling asleep on the couch with his feet on my lap."

"That sounds very... married," Chekov said dubiously. "I do not see the attraction of such an evening at home."

"Oh, if you're very lucky, someday you'll discover all the secret little benefits of wedded bliss," Sulu said happily. "Then, that kind of evening will be the highlight of your week."

"The highlight?" Chekov shook his head in disbelief. "That does not sound like a highlight to me. Going out to parties with my friends, sightseeing, having adventures... _those _sound like _highlights_."

"Didn't to me, either, at your age," Jim said with a laugh. "But it snuck up on me. Now I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Scotty got the shuttle settled, and the four of them left their seats.

"All righty now, we're all docked. Captain, you and Mr. Spock will need a ride home?" Scotty asked. "I've got my own meetings with the Supply Chief and the Docking Steward before I get the R&R shuttle schedule going. Shouldn't be but a few hours more."

"I don't know how long we'll be, Scotty," Jim admitted. "We'll either catch one of your scheduled R&R shuttles back or shanghai a ride. Worst case, we'll order a shuttle over."

"Aye, we'll plan on that, then," Scotty agreed. "Sulu, you say hello to the Mister and give Demora a kiss for me!"

As they walked across the platform to the connecting tunnel, Sulu turned and waved at Scotty. "Will do!"

"Where are they meeting you?" Jim asked as they walked through the tunnel and into a large arrival area, with various gates leading to docking areas of all sizes. Not a civilian sector, it was full of those Starbase 12 workers going about their business.

"On the Arrival and Observation deck," Sulu said. "It's upper levels of the Drydock Module. I'll have to catch a map to see how far up I need to go. They can't get down here to the working areas without clearance."

"That ees where I am meeting my friends," Chekov said excitedly.

"Want to meet Ben and Demora with me?" Sulu asked.

"Sure!" Chekov said, taking out his comm. "It has been a long time since I've seen Demora. She has grown! I will let my friends know I will be a little late."

"Would you guys like to come?" Sulu asked Jim and Spock hopefully.

"I think we could spare a few minutes," Jim said with a smile, glancing at Spock.

"I have heard that _'a few minutes delay in arriving can be fashionable'_," Spock said with an agreeable nod. "This would be a good time to put that idea to the test. I, too, would enjoy seeing your husband and daughter once again."

The four of them found a map showing which floor they needed to get off on, where Jim and Spock also took note of the location of the event they were going to attend. The elevator was packed, and Jim noticed that as they made their way up, several people in the large lift were sneaking glances at him. It may have been his and Spock's uniforms that caught their attention. While the starbase could hold more than a dozen Federation Constitution Class Starships at one time, that didn't mean it ever had. But Federation Officers shouldn't be so rare that the dress uniform would garner notice. The upper levels would be full of Starfleet personnel. The starbase was run by Starfleet, after all.

But a couple of the glances seemed amused. Which was odd.

_Oh,_ Jim thought suddenly. _It must be the hair stripe. I forget that it's there anymore. The crew and I've gotten used to it. _

_It probably does look odd, seeing as it's so straight, and only on the one side._

_Officers don't usually display anything unusual, hair wise. If they have any._

It wasn't until they'd left the elevator on the 'Arrival and Observation' floor and entered the vast, cavernous room crammed full of people awaiting the arrival of friends and loved ones, that Jim saw it.

They all saw it.

And all four stopped to stare at the same time.

"Well... That's... Uh..." Sulu said, glancing at Jim, clearly at a loss for words.

"_Embarrassing_," Jim said grimly.

Across the long, high ceilinged room, at the top of the open entrance to the next section was a large poster. At the top were the words, in Standard, _'A Career in Starfleet'_, and at the bottom were the words _'If **he** can make a difference, **anyone** can_.'

And in the center, was a larger-than-life picture of Jim, from the mid-chest on up.

In his Plebe Reds.

And a strange smirk on his face.

Clearly not a posed shot.

"They did not warn you of this?" Spock asked, eyebrow raised as he glanced at Jim.

"I knew they were going to use me as part of a recruitment promotion," Jim said with a sigh. He closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't seen the sign. "But... no... not any real details. In fact, I wasn't aware it was going to start so soon."

"Did they actually tell you you'd literally be the _'Poster Boy'_?" Sulu asked, clearly trying to hold back a smile.

"No." Jim groaned. "They did _not_."

"It ess _not_ your best picture," Chekov admitted seriously, studying the poster. "You look as if you are smelling something bad."

"And I'm not sure that they've worded it very well," Sulu added.

"It does read as... less than complementary," Spock added. "Probably a problem in translation from English to Standard."

"If, in fact, _Jim Kirk_ can do something--" Chekov said with a smile and a teasing glance at Jim.

"Then _anyone_ can," Sulu finished with a grin and a chuckle. "Yeah, someone didn't think that one through."

Jim shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wondered if he was starting to flush red. Before he even realized it, his fingers had gone to that bit of white stripe clearly visible under his cap.

_Okay, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to keep it after all. Now I feel like a walking emergency beacon._

He _felt_ like he was flushing red.

He sighed and opened his eyes. Not only was the sign still there, but he could see some of the people nearby starting to notice his presence. A few were grabbing their comms. Some already had them out and were aiming them at him.

Jim had no doubt his picture was being taken and passed around by the hundreds already.

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to hate my life for a while?" Jim asked plaintively.

"You should probably warn Len," Sulu said, shaking his head. Over his surprise, Sulu's attention was clearly back on finding his husband and daughter in the crowd behind the barriers. "Unless you want to surprise him when he finally gets to leave the ship."

"I have taken a picture of it," Chekov said cheerfully. "I can send a copy to him."

"Might as well," Jim said with resignation, following Sulu's lead. "I'm _not_ getting caught on anyone else's comm taking a picture of _myself_."

"Would such an action lead to a judgment of vanity from others?" Spock asked.

"It ees possible. Or narcissism," Chekov added helpfully.

"Egoism," Sulu said distractedly. His eyes eagerly scanning the crowds ahead of them. "Or self-absorption."

Chekov nodded. "Conceit. Haughtiness. Or even--"

"You guys_ aren't_ helping," Jim said gruffly, but keeping his voice low. More people were noticing him now.

"There they are!" Sulu exclaimed happily. He sprinted forward, winding through the crowd.

"Dad!" A young girl's happy screech echoed through the crowd.

Following, Jim caught sight of Sulu dropping his bag and leaning down to scoop up a dark-haired little girl into his arms and twirl happily with her. He then leaned into a tall, dark-haired man waiting next to her. The three shared a hug and the two a kiss as the little girl between them squealed joyfully.

Jim smiled, enjoying the scene, as he, Spock, and Chekov worked their way toward them.

_How does he do it? Keep a family together while gone for such long periods?_

_I know how it affected Sam, to have Mom and Dad gone for so long. _

_Whatever the correct balance of work and raising kids is, Hikaru and Ben seem to have found it._

As Demora started talking excitedly to her beaming father, while still in his arms, Ben turned toward them and held out his hand to Chekov, who was closest.

"Pavel! Great to see you again." He turned and nodded at Spock. "Mister Spock. It's great to see you too! And Captain? Always a pleasure."

Ben held out his hand, and Jim shook it firmly, returning Ben's infectious grin.

"Wonderful to see you again, Mr. Sulu, and always wonderful to see Demora."

"Oh, it's Ben, please! And thank you, for letting Hikaru off a bit early. We treasure every minute we can get with him."

"I _know_ you do," Jim said with a smile. "He's more than earned all the extra time off we can give him. Please call me _Jim_."

"Jim! Yes, I know you've asked me to before, it's just..." Ben's smile turned shy, and he shrugged and nodded in the direction of the sign in the distance. "Well, you're the most famous person I know."

"Ah... well... let's hope that no one takes _that_ too seriously," Jim said, holding on to his smile.

"I know you!" Demora said to Jim as Hikaru put her down. She smiled happily at him. "You're Dad's Captain! I saw your picture up on the wall. Bàba said that you and Dad work on the Bridge! And that Dad steers it, and he's the best! And I know Mr. Spock."

Now at six, it'd been a while since Jim had seen her in person. Jim hadn't known if she'd even remember. Jim leaned down to shake her offered hand gently.

"Your Bàba's right," Jim said to her. "Your Dad is the** best**. And he beats me at games all the time. I'm glad you and your Bàba let him work for us. He's _very _important."

"And who am I?" Chekov asked with a smile as he squatted down to get closer to her. "I remember when you were only this big!"

Chekov held his hands only half a meter apart, and Demora giggled and rushed to give Chekov a hug.

"You're _Pavel_. I _know _you!"

Surprisingly, Jim felt a little bad that he didn't know Demora well enough to have earned a hug. But he didn't blame her. Jim knew that they all tried to bring Chekov into their private lives when there were family visits and time off. Everyone else tended to go their own ways at times, so they didn't know each other's families as well as Pavel did.

Just then, Jim's comm buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw it was from Bones.

** _I'd be laughing my ass off if I didn't know how much you hate all this. Okay, I *am* laughing my ass off._ **

** _Better you than me._ **

Jim shook his head, not blaming Bones one bit.

Spock leaned closer to Jim, keeping his voice low. "Captain, I believe that we should be going."

"Yeah, you're right." Jim turned back to Ben and Hikaru, he held out his hand again to Ben. "Guys, we have to go. It's been great seeing you again, Ben."

"Likewise, Captain... Jim."

"See you in a few days," Hikaru said as he took Demora's hand, Ben grabbed Hikaru's bag, and the three turned to walk away, with Demora giving them a shy wave goodbye.

Jim waved back.

"See you later, Keptain, Mr. Spock," Chekov said with a smile, grabbing his own bag and turning to look for his own group of friends.

"Later, Pavel," Jim said, watching the young man walk briskly away through the crowds. Too many of them were still looking at him.

He turned to Spock. "Lead on, Mr. Spock. Let's get this party over with."

Spock turned to head back through the crowd to the central hub and the lifts, and Jim followed reluctantly.

It didn't take them long to find a lift to the correct level.

They walked quietly through a large, open, and opulent corridor. Obviously, this was the level where some socially serious, high-class entertaining was done. There were people in Dress Blues, and expensive civilian clothing walking the carpeted halls, through and around groups of artistically placed and tended potted plants and resting benches. The white paneling, made to look like real marble, was decorated with various, colorful pieces of artwork. It gave the wide corridor a museum-type atmosphere

Spock stopped suddenly, then turned to Jim, scanning his face.

"Captain, do you not wish to attend this function because you feel you would be unwelcomed?" Spock asked.

Jim winced. "Have I been that transparent?"

"Your continued reluctance to attend this social gathering, when you do not seem to mind them in other circumstances, has made me wonder if it is the other invitee's you do not look forward to interacting with," Spock said. "And yet, this will be a gathering of other Captains and First Officers. Do you feel uncomfortable around your peers?"

"I think some of them feel uncomfortable around _me_," Jim admitted. "The way I got this Captaincy wasn't exactly the way most go about getting the job. I jumped the line by quite a bit. I get the feeling that a lot of them don't think I should be here."

"The Admiralty would not have reinstated you if they did not believe you are capable, however unorthodox your methods may be at times," Spock said. "Your position benefits them, and Starfleet, in some way, or they would be quick to remove you from command. Also, I do not think anyone on the _Enterprise_ believes you are not qualified, however you came to the position. I certainly would_ not_ stay if I did not think you were capable. Considering that I was once Acting Captain of the _Enterprise_ myself, and even had you thrown off of the ship, I believe that is what one would call _'saying a lot'_ about my trust in your current abilities."

Jim smiled. "Thank you. When I have doubts, I'll have to remember that. Bones tries to tell me the same thing, but... he's just a _tad_ biased."

Spock inclined his head, amusement touching his eyes. "I am forced to admit that at times, the Doctor may actually be correct about a matter. Although that is not as often as he thinks it is."

Jim laughed. "I won't tell him you said that, but he probably wouldn't be surprised you did. So, where are we going? It's about time we showed up."

"It is this way."

Spock turned, and Jim followed. Checking the time on his comm, they weren't actually all that late. The gathering had officially started less than fifteen minutes ago. As big as the invitation list was, they probably just missed the rush.

When they found the entrance, there were hosts there to take their caps and drink orders. Standing inside the entrance, Jim had to admit it was a large and beautiful room. The was an old-fashioned, dark-wood bar at one side, pale carpeting, creamed colored cloth-covered walls, with a dark trim at ceiling and floor. The lighting was subdued, and the background music low enough not to interfere with normal conversation. There was a large window opposite the door, looking out into space, with various couches and chairs in small groupings. And it seemed to be well attended, with multiple species, some in civilian dress and some in Federation uniforms, mingling and talking. Jim thought that there must be almost a hundred in attendance, with more probably to arrive later. Jim ordered a glass of white wine and Spock a sparkling water.

As Jim tried not to be too obvious about scanning the crowd, he could see many had noticed his arrival. Some looked amused.

Before the drinks arrived, Jim heard his name called by a familiar voice.

"Captain Kirk!" Commodore Stocker, dressed in his best, came striding toward him.

It had been over two years since Jim had last seen him in person.

Jim's smile was real as he reached out to take the Commodore's offered hand. The two years had aged Stocker a bit, but Jim could only imagine the kind of work that went into running a whole starbase.

"Welcome aboard, Captain," Stocker said with a smile of his own as they shook hands. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Pleasure to be here, Sir," Jim said.

"Mr. Spock. Glad you could come as well."

"I am appreciative of the invitation, Sir."

"I see you've settled in very successfully," Jim said to Stocker. "I hear you're doing a fantastic job."

"My _people_ are doing a fantastic job," Stocker admitted with a small smile. "I have taken your good advice to heart and tried my best to learn how to form a good working team. I do have to admit," Stocker said, looking at the crowd around them with a bit of unease, "that I'm still not what you call a _'people person'_, so gatherings like this are a little awkward for me. Attending these functions is one of the few things I find that I can't expect anyone to do for me. But my personal Yeoman assures me that in the long run, this will help relations across the board. And I've learned the hard way to take her advice."

"Can't argue with what works," Jim said.

Waitstaff came up to Jim and Spock with their drinks.

"Let me introduce you around, Captain. There's been a lot of interest in meeting you." Stocker's eyebrow went up. "Especially after the new Starfleet promotion was revealed. That's a subject we can talk more about tomorrow, during our meeting."

"Of course, Sir," Jim replied.

He and Spock followed Stocker across the room, to another group.

_I hope he doesn't think I had anything to do with it,_ Jim thought with a mental sigh._ It's not like anyone asked me._

The rest of the evening went fairly well, with Jim noticing that Stocker took great pains to introduce Jim and Spock to many of the civilian captains before the Federation ones. The ship traffic outside was heavy and constant, so not all Captains had been invited. Many who'd come were in charge of very large cargo or passenger ships. Those with ships almost half the size or more of the _Enterprise_. Jim noticed they were also long-term fliers, many who were years older than Jim, and some with decades of traveling in the black. Much more than Jim had now, and more than even three, or four five-year missions would give him.

Those groups seemed to already know each other and tended to stay together, apart from the Starfleet officers. They all seemed friendly, but a bit wary, as Jim returned their nods or shook their hands. At first, they tended to ask him various questions about the _Enterprise_, and some signaled Spock out for scientific subjects. They seemed to relax more when Jim would ask them questions about their own ships, their cargo, how they found travel along the trade routes... and especially when Jim really listened to the answers.

There were, of course, various complaints about security along some routes. Jim could hear the real concern in their voices, even when he wasn't asked the questions they really wanted answered. Those he heard, but weren't actually voiced, were ones like; Why were there still ships going missing? Why didn't the Federation take care of that problem once and for all? What about the way there seemed to be more and more illnesses among the more distant colonies? Did Starfleet Medical take those cases seriously? Why weren't more Starships patrolling the Neutral Zone? And what about the Open Zone, that vast area of systems that had rejected any idea of Federation membership? Couldn't Starfleet give them a bit more protection while outside its own territories?

Jim listened and agreed with many of their concerns. Most were completely valid. But he didn't try to explain or defend the current situation, as he knew he didn't have the authority or knowledge to reveal what was going on behind the scenes. He was just a Captain, after all. And he could see they understood that. They, too, all worked within their own hierarchies of power, knowledge, and rank within their individual companies.

There were more than a few discussions where Jim could commiserate about having the responsibilities of ship and crew, and little of the say in what assignments were thrust upon them. Almost all of them were _'for hire'_, and not owners of their own ships, so they had a mutual appreciation for that stressful situation.

As the evening wore on, Jim noticed that Stocker would make a point to steal Jim and Spock away from one group to introduce them to another. Almost three hours had passed before Stocker steered him to the Federation groups. He noticed that the other two Federation Starship Captains, Captain Neeler of the _Arrowman_ and Captain Sanin of the _Merrimac_, who were both off-line and in drydock, seemed to keep themselves apart. Jim had talked to Captain Sanin before, a few years ago after Starbase 10 had gotten hit by a dead ship coming out of warp. They had arrived to help the _Enterprise_ with the emergency situation. But he hadn't met Captain Sanin in person.

Stocker seemed to be saving them for last.

When Stocker introduced them to the first group of Federation Captains, all in charge of ships smaller and less advanced than a Starship, Jim felt as if he'd jumped from a hot tub to a cold pond. Most greeted him politely but with disinterest, some ignored him and continue with their conversations with their neighbors, and a few even pointedly left the group when Stocker brought Jim and Spock to them. The room definitely got chillier.

_Same old thing._ Jim thought tiredly, nursing his second drink of the night. He didn't really want it.

_They're all good Starfleet Officers. If the Enterprise needed them, they'd all be there for us._

_They're just not fans of the "Poster Boy". _

_Someone who should still be working his way up to a rank he'd been handed on a silver platter._

_Can I blame them? What stories about me have they heard? _

_Now, even more attention coming my way._

While Spock was in discussion with another First Officer, and the other Captains were busy ignoring him, he decided to make a move himself. He quietly left the group and walked toward Captains' Neeler and Sanin, who were standing and talking at the empty area at the end of the bar.

Neeler, Captain of the _Arrowman_, was a striking Human female. Not quite mid-sixties on paper, she looked much younger. Her mouse-brown hair was cut into a neat wedge, which framed her face in a way that brought out her high cheekbones and sharp, dark eyes. Talking to Sanin, she raised a surprised eyebrow at Jim as he strode up.

Neeler had been in space since her third year at the Academy, serving as a midshipman aboard various Starfleet vessels. She had more years in the black than Jim had been alive. Nearly half of those as Captain of several ships. She had, several times, turned down a promotion to Commodore. Almost unheard of in Starfleet.

And probably not done, Jim suspected, without some backlash of its own.

Sanin, a Bolian female, was nearing her late forties. She looked several Human years younger. Bald, her blue skin and center dividing ridge from the back of her head to mouth, and under her mouth and down her neck, gave her a rather stern look. The color of the Dress Blues was, unfortunately, doing her no favors. She turned hostile blue eyes toward Jim as she noticed his approach.

Jim had seen the public part of their service records. Sanin had been the first Bolian to join Starfleet, and had graduated with honors. She had been promoted to Captain of the _Merrimac_ not long before the hauler wreckage had hit Starbase 10, after many years of Captaining many smaller Federation ships.

"Captain Neeler. Captain Sanin," Jim said, offering them his hand. "I'm so pleased to meet you both. You both have such impressive records. Ones that inspire me daily."

Neeler shook his hand, a small smile working at the corner of her lips. "If you try to tell me that you grew up following my exploits, I'll call you a liar. I'm trying to pretend I'm not actually old enough to be your mother."

"You obviously wear your experience well," Jim said with a smile.

Sanin's handshake was quick and reluctant. "Captain."

"Pleased to meet you face to face, Captain Sanin. I can't tell you how appreciative we all were at the _Merrimac'_s quick arrival at the Starbase 10 disaster. I only regret that you and I didn't have time to meet in person, with all the emergency rescue and recovery we had going on. You have a good crew."

Sanin's glare faded a bit. "As do you, Captain. I have to say your quick response to the situation, in deflecting that freighter from hitting the starbase head-on, undoubtedly saved thousands."

"My crew, as always, does the work," Jim said with a smile. "I have been blessed with good, hard-working people."

"As your career in Starfleet progresses, Captain," Neeler said with an amused grin, "you may find yourself continually surprised at how many Captains, and other officers, don't actually realize who does the real work on a ship. Many of them don't see their crew as more than buttons they press to get things done. And, the brass seems to have no idea. If they start out with that knowledge, somehow they get amnesia when they make Admiral. Kudo's for you in recognizing the truth of the matter."

Sanin, who seemed to disagree with Neeler, looked annoyed. She nodded at them both, but her tone was frosty.

"Captains, if you will excuse me, it's been a long day, and I have many reports yet to file. It is time to call it a night."

Jim and Captain Neeler both said their goodnights and watched as Captain Sanin headed for the door while signaling her First Officer over. They stopped by Stocker to take their leave on the way out.

"I guess she must really dislike me," Jim said with a sigh.

"She's always been _very_ grumpy. Not very social," Neeler admitted. She glanced at Jim, smiling slightly. "And she _is_ very put out with you, you know. That poster _is_ ridiculous, and I'm afraid from what I hear that you're going to be center stage for a while. That's put a lot of people's hackles up, if you want to know the truth."

"Yes, I'm sure that many don't care for it," Jim admitted. He took a sip of his drink and turned to her. "Neither do I. I never asked for--"

"Glad to hear it," Neeler said quickly. "We really don't need that much of a narcissist in our ranks. Yet, we all know that Starfleet will use our professional careers as they see fit. But you have had your share of publicity, wanted or not. Deserved or not. It does get a little grating."

"It's grating from this side too," Jim admitted.

"Mind if I ask you a personal question?" Neeler studied Jim's face. She seemed a bit amused. "And I'll warn you now, I'm pretty harsh with the truth when I'm in the mood."

Jim sighed. "Since answering personal questions seems to be one of the aspects of my current assignment, might as well have a shot at me now."

"That white stripe?"

Jim smiled wryly. "Part of an old scar I decided to keep. A reminder of my past. And I know it gets under the skin of some of the brass."

Neeler actually smiled. "I've got one of those myself. When I was thirty, a Hyndaru healer saved my life after an assignment went wrong. They mix modern and ancient medical practices, and I ended up returning to the ship with a Hyndaru battle god tattooed over my lower back. In real, native ink, not like the current Terran fads, where it fades after a few months. A painful process, but done to keep the evil bacteria away from my wound, and while I was on painkillers anyway. I still have it. Wouldn't touch it for the world, although I've had more than a couple of CMO's almost crawl to me begging to clean it up. It really is as _ugly_ as hell."

Jim smiled. "At least yours is hidden."

"Almost a shame," Neeler admitted. "If it'd been visible outside my uniform, it would have been a fight to get me to remove it. Sometimes I wonder if that's why Starfleet likes us covered head to toe in these suits. Hides our histories. Makes us all look alike. Talking heads. Now, if you don't mind me _saying_ something personal..."

Jim waited as Neeler gave him another once over. He was sure it was going to be something about the poster and the new recruitment project.

He shrugged.

"Your father was taller." She smiled evilly. "You must take after your mother. I'm going to be horribly frank and say he was _much_ better looking. At least, from my thirty-year-old point of view."

Jim felt stunned. "You _knew_ my father?"

"George Kirk," Neeler said with a sigh. "Yes. It's not listed in my public records, but I was loaned to the _Nethalmyer _for a while. They were short some bridge crew until their permanent replacement could catch up with them. I did a six-week stint on it, since the _Adama _was on stand-down for repairs. It was about two months before George got assigned to the _Kelvin _as First Officer. Less than a year before he died."

That, Jim knew from his father's service record. What it didn't publicly show was all the people he'd worked with.

"So, you worked with him? Got to know him?" Jim asked eagerly.

"What was he like? I'm sure you're desperate for information," Neeler said with a sympathetic look. "I would be too, in your shoes. A very handsome, charming man. And I'll throw you a bit of a bone here. I can see a lot of him in your features. But I think your older brother looks much more like him. At least, from the pictures George was always showing around. Didn't meet your mother. I think she had some planet-side time before they were both assigned to the _Kelvin_. She was off of the _Nethalmyer _by then. I spent bridge time with Kirk during all six of those weeks, him being First Officer and sharing the same shift. Ate a lot of meals together. Some downtime spent together as a group."

Jim felt breathless, afraid to do or say anything to interrupt her.

She looked at him and gave him a wry smile. "Nothing personal or intimate. With me, or as far as I know, with anyone else. George was clearly very, very bonded to his spouse. Not just married, as in a practical arrangement. But he was social, open, easy-going. Young, tall, incredibly handsome, charismatic... all without really trying, or any real realization that he _was_ any of those things. Not an easy man to forget, which is why I was hit hard to hear he'd died on the _Kelvin_. And yet, his sacrifice was exactly what I'd have expected from him."

Neeler drifted off, eyes focused on her memories. Not seeing Jim anymore.

"Quietly happy. Content, yet excited about being out in space. Loved his wife and kid. What was it... George Junior? I remember a lot of pictures of the kid. Looked a lot like him. Don't remember his wife's name..."

"My brother goes by _'Sam' _now," Jim said quietly. "My mother's name was _Winona_. She... passed on, not too long ago."

"I'm sorry," Neeler said, looking like she sincerely meant it. "Saw a lot of pictures of her. Must have been close to the time you were conceived. Six weeks, and it was like I'd known him all my life. Always seems like the best ones get short-changed out here, which probably says a lot about my own longevity. Frankly, I've been a little leery of you and your history. Although I suspect even those of us in the 'Fleet don't know the whole story behind the public news releases. Especially with this recruitment crap. I was kind of afraid you were one of those narcissistic, attention-loving assholes that were all bark and no substance. Starfleet's _poster boy_ before the official poster boy announcement. An Admiral's pet."

"I'm not any of those things. At least, I try not to be." Jim smiled at her. "Well, maybe I like _some_ attention from friends and family. But not from strangers so much. Not like what's coming my way now."

Neeler took a sip from her drink, staring at him as she did so.

"As you grow older, if you're lucky enough to do so, you'll be surprised at how many good and decent people produce nasty, arrogant, unlikeable, and troublesome kids. Nice to see that George had some luck that way. And I'll throw you another bone here. I get George's vibe from you. You may not have inherited his handsomeness, no offense because you _are _a bit of eye candy, but when you walked up I was reminded of him. He was a good man to know, even over such a short time. I have a feeling you've got your own individual good points as well."

Neeler held out her hand. "And because I actually believe that, you can call me Darla. Pleased to meet you, Captain Kirk."

Jim felt a smile split his face. He took her hand and shook it firmly. "It's Jim, please."

When she released his hand, she threw back the rest of her drink.

"Now," Darla Neeler said with a smile, "if I was just a _bit_ younger, and you weren't actually George's kid, and you weren't married to some man who must be hell-on-wheels himself to have landed you, I'd make a play for you. Then you'd be finding yourself waking up in my bed at the start of the next shift. You_ are_ cute, when you smile. _But,_ with reality being what it is, I'm getting a ship ready to leave drydock in a few days and I have a ton of paperwork to do. I wouldn't have come to this whole gathering, but Stocker is a good man, and he thinks these things can help us all be friends, so I came. I'll be leaving now, if I can find my First Officer, who seems to be talking to that group over there."

"And if I weren't _very_ married, I probably would have gone home with you," Jim said with a grin. "It was great to meet you, Darla,"

"Same here, Jim. Give me a buzz and maybe we can find some time to catch a drink, and I can talk more about your father. I'll work on dredging up some details out of these old brain cells."

"Definitely! I look forward to it."

Captain Darla Neeler gave Jim a nod, then made her way through the crowds to collect her own First Officer, leaving her glass on the bar.

Jim felt happy, and he hadn't expected to.

"Captain?" Spock's voice almost startled Jim. Jim turned to look at him. Spock was looking at him curiously. "I take it your conversation went well."

"Very well," Jim said with a smile, setting his own glass down next to Neeler's. "At least, this last one did. I seemed to have made a friend, Spock. Captain Neeler worked with my father. She's the first person in Starfleet I've run across who actually has."

"Then I can certainly understand your improved mood," Spock said.

"And on that note, I think it's time to head home," Jim said with a satisfied sigh. "Everyone has a long day tomorrow, and I've got to come back for the Commodore's meeting. I don't want to jinx this mood by pressing my luck any further."

"I believe that may be very wise," Spock said. "I, also, feel quite done with the evening, although it has been very informative."

"Good. Then it's not been wasted time for either of us."

Jim turned, and with Spock behind him, headed through the crowd to Commodore Stocker, to take their leave and gather their caps.

And if he could avoid that stupid poster while on the way home, which he knew would be in more than one place on a starbase this size, all the better.


	2. Chapter 2

***

Chapter Two

***

As Jim entered their cabin, he saw the lights were dimmed and Bones was still on the couch. Light from the vid-screen was flickering over the room. Bones's cross-stitch project was still safely packed up, pushed off to the side, and out of the way. So, Jim knew he wasn't feeling entirely up to par yet. Bones was afraid to touch his project when he wasn't feeling well. From the cussing Bones had done in the past when he'd misplaced some stitches, it wasn't much fun to pick them back out.

_He's probably not moved from the couch since I left. Is he really okay?_

Jim now felt guilty that he hadn't called to check back in while he was out. He tried to move quietly and not wake Bones up.

"Not asleep," Bones said tiredly in the darkness.

"Thought you weren't going to stay up."

"I'm a liar," Bones said as he started to sit up.

Jim waved him back down, and sat at the end of the couch, taking Bones's stockinged feet in hand and started to massage them.

Bones's groan was almost sexual.

"A lot of shop talk," Jim admitted. "You would've been bored. While I think it was a good idea to get the Federation and civilian Command crews together, there wasn't a lot of mixing going on. Everyone stuck to their clique. Spock and I were some of the few that actually mingled, thanks to Stocker insisting he introduce us around. I think I know why now."

"Yeah? Why?"

"The Federation is spread thin," Jim said as he continued his massage. "We know it, and I'm sure the civilian fleets know it. Not that the Federation will ever come out and admit to it. Our first line of defense, in case any of those at our borders start making moves toward war, is going to be knowing about it. If we can't be everywhere, we have to depend on sensors and those who navigate those areas to be our eyes and ears. And that won't happen if they don't trust us to take them seriously when they report things."

"And we haven't been?"

"I'll talk to Commodore Stocker about it tomorrow. But even Scotty's connections are talking about some strange things in the area that haven't been explained," Jim said. "My info from Admiral Roberts says that there have been reports, but nothing that we've been able to replicate or find any sign of. Even when there's been any data captures. Many of the reports say things that were never recorded."

"The crew heard or saw strange things, and their computers didn't record it?"

"Most of it," Jim said. "Which doesn't sound logical. If they saw something funny, then they saw it on _some_ sensor. All we have between us and the black are the sensors on our ships. Yet the observations were all 'real-time', with a living being watching the data as it came it. Then, when they went back to show the weird data to others, it wasn't there. And in those cases where things _were _recorded, nothing unusual was found when anyone arrived to check out the area."

"That sounds creepy."

"It does," Jim agreed. "So the civilian sector is a bit on edge, talking amongst themselves, and feeling like Starfleet isn't paying any attention to them. We're not telling them that we _are _doing any follow up. Probably to keep our patrol and recognizance ship's locations from being tracked. So they _think_ we're not listening or responding. Or they're worried that the defense grid we have to pre-warn us of hostile ship movement doesn't really exist, since it's not recording anything unusual."

"And Stocker wants to instill some trust in each other, by getting the Captains together for cocktail parties."

"It's what he can do, so he's doing it. I do think that it meant a lot to the civilian Captains that I was focusing on them and listening to their complaints. Someone besides Stocker, that is. I couldn't give them much feedback, since I'm not in a position to know what's all going on outside the _Enterprise_. But I let them know that I appreciated their reports, and their concerns."

"And since you're now the Federations new poster boy..."

Jim winced. "Then they feel like they're talking to someone important. Little do they know..."

"I'd ask you if it was really that bad, but since I saw the actual poster... yeah, it's that bad." Bones sighed. "I know I've been trying to play the _'half-full glass'_ side of this whole thing, but I do know how much you hate this kind of exposure. And the documentary thing? When will all that start?"

"I'll find out tomorrow," Jim said. "Admiral Roberts said that Starfleet has already made a deal with a news-vid group and that they're here on the station. Stocker is supposed to be in charge of that end. We're supposed to hit dry dock once the _Arrowman_ is fit to leave. Then we let them crawl all over the ship, following me for a few days. Ask whatever questions they want. They put all of that fascinating footage together for that revisit of the _Kelvin_ tragedy on my birthday. But I did have some luck tonight."

"Oh?"

"Captains Neeler and Sanin were there. From the _Arrowman _and the _Merrimac_. I hadn't met them before. Sanin wasn't thrilled to meet me and left soon after. But Neeler... Bones? She actually _worked with my father_."

"Yeah?" Bones seemed to perk up a bit. He pulled his feet out of Jim's lap and sat up. "She did? For how long? Was she on the _Kelvin_ when--"

"No. Several months before he was assigned to the _Kelvin_. She was a loan on the ship he was on before his and Mom's transfers. Six weeks. She's one of the few I've actually met who worked with him." Jim found himself smiling. "Told me a lot about the person my dad was. That was great, hearing it from someone new. Bits I hadn't heard before. I wish Sam had been there to hear it too."

"Maybe," Bones said gently, "this whole promotion thing Starfleet is doing will bring out _more_ of those stories. Stories that people will share, now that time has passed and they know you and Sam are adults now. And when it all gets put together, it'll be something you both can enjoy."

"If it was just about the _Kelvin_\--"

"Jim," Bones said, his tone insistent. "You _know_ you're a _good man_. A good_ Captain_. I know you're going to hate parts of the process, but they certainly could have chosen a worse example of the kind of person they're looking for."

"I'm an _outsider_ amongst the other Captains, Bones," Jim said grimly. "You know all the reasons why."

"Which may be the best reason to showcase you a bit. Aren't we all outsiders in different ways?" Bones shook his head. "Christopher Pike was worried that Starfleet had lost something, something that you could bring back to it. I think that there are more beings out there that feel like outsiders in their own cultures than those that feel they fit into those narrow definitions of 'acceptable' that they grow up with. They can be just as brilliant, dedicated, hard-working, and adaptable as any of those who fit the mold and are _easily_ drawn to Starfleet."

Bones put an arm around Jim's shoulders. "In fact, they could fit in here better than anywhere else. Maybe that's part of why you were chosen, and the role you _should _play. You had a shaky past? Got into some trouble as a kid? Was angry at your parents for a while? There's a whole lot of people out there that can sympathize with that. And they may end up not only wondering why you _joined_, but why you've _stayed_. Horrible choice of picture. But..." Bones smiled. "If _Jim Kirk_ can make a difference..."

Jim chuckled. "Yeah. I get it. Although I have a feeling that's not quite the tactic Starfleet wants me to follow."

Bones shrugged tiredly. "You've not been told what to say, or talk about, right? So give people more of the civilian you than the official Starfleet version. Then, if Starfleet doesn't like it, they won't let it be aired. They can just pick out the bits they like. Then, maybe you won't actually be in it much at all. And the poster boy they're pushing will get killed off pretty quickly."

_He's right. They want to showcase me? Then my past is a huge part of who I am. Maybe that younger me will speak to more of those who can change their lives in some way. Or are looking for a way to make that change._

Jim looked at his cap on the coffee table. A symbol of his rank he hardly ever wore. And the Dress Blues he was in... always so stuffy and uncomfortable. And conforming. But maybe... Inclusive as well. He may be the black sheep of the Starfleet family, but he was still _family_.

"Maybe..." Jim said, still unsure.

"But... Jim? There's something important we haven't discussed yet."

"Yeah? What?"

Bones looked uncomfortable. "When you were fourteen, and the molestation... Have you ever told Sam?"

Jim felt like he'd just been socked in the gut. He'd tried for so many years to forget that had ever happened, had buried it so deep, that he hadn't even thought of it.

_No, I haven't. No, I was never going to._ Jim felt a flash of anger flood him. _And now... Everyone is digging into my past. People knew. People in the town talked... If Sam hears it from someone else..._

_Am I already too late?_

Jim fell back into the couch, his eyes closed as he scowled.

"**Shit**!"

"Yeah," Bones said softly. "Thought not. I think you'd better, before--"

"It may already be too late," Jim moaned.

"It may _not_ be," Bones said.

"Hell," Jim said with a tired sigh. "It didn't even dawn on me that that could come up again."

"Understandable," Bones said softly. He pulled Jim in closer. "You dealt with it, and you moved on. You've had a lot happen since then."

"He's going to blame himself," Jim groaned, leaning against Bones. "He shouldn't, but he will. Even I blamed him some, at the time. Him, Mom, Frank... they all took some blame. The counselors helped me through all that. Not that I blamed Frank any less, later on. But I don't think he would have let it happened if he'd been sober and awake. And the resentment of Mom being gone all the time never really went away. But _none _of that was _Sam's _fault. I have to tell him. As soon as possible. And I can't even do it in person. _Shit_."

"I'm sorry I had to bring it up," Bones said sadly. "I feel like I've ruined the good mood you came home with."

"Don't be," Jim said. He leaned over and kissed Bones's cheek. "You're trying to protect me, by giving me fair warning. Believe me, I need to prepare myself before I talk to Sam. Let's get you to bed."

"Get us _both_ to bed," Bones agreed as he untangled himself from Jim and stood up. "Maybe we can even sleep."

Jim followed him into the bedroom.

But as tired and upset as he was, he didn't know if he could sleep.

He needed to figure out how to break the story to Sam.

And that may take more than one long, dark night.

***

Jim liked the waiting area just outside of Commodore Stocker's office. The current Federation design choice of steel and light gray padding of floors and walls, with usually the only variation of a light blue, seemed to be repeated endlessly in the last few years. Stocker's outer office was done in greens and natural wood browns with a light green colored carpeting. The air here was a bit warmer than usual, the lighting had more of a Terran sunshine-white to it, and the airflow sounded more like a natural breeze.

_Nice. Very well done. _

_If I close my eyes, I can almost feel like I could open the door and walk out into some real sunlight._

_That takes some skill._

Jim had arrived a little bit early, and Commodore Stocker's secretary had been gracious in offering him beverages after announcing his arrival. It was nice just to sit in the seating area and close his eyes for a bit. It had been a busy morning as he checked on Bones and got some reports done. There were a lot of things they could mend, fix, and restock while still outside Starbase 12's protective shell. So, the reports and lists he had to go over were never ending, even when they were practically _in _drydock. But at least he'd been able to see Bones back to duty after waking up and feeling normal again.

That was one worry off his mind already. He still hadn't heard from Sam. Which wasn't that unusual. He hadn't sent the message priority, although now he wished he had. He'd tried to practice what he'd say to Sam, how he would tell him. But he was afraid that no matter how he phrased it, Sam wouldn't take it well.

_One day, he'll get some kind of handle on the fact he was just a kid at the time, with no close adult to help him navigate through life. And he'll be able to forgive himself, like I forgave him._

_I just wish I'd told him earlier. Face to face._

_What pisses me off is that it's **my **story to tell, yet I seem to have no control over it at all._

_That's just wrong._

Jim was so lost in those thoughts that he almost startled when Stocker's secretary announced that the Commodore was ready to see him. Stocker's office opened, and Stocker himself came out to welcome Jim.

"Right on time, Captain," Stocker said with a smile of his own as they shook hands. "I hope this wasn't too early a meeting for you, after putting in a few hours last night."

"Not at all, Sir," Jim said as he followed Stocker into his office. "I have to say I did enjoy last night more than I thought I would."

Stocker's office was also done up in greens and browns. The walls only half-way convincing since they were obviously data screens as well. But what first struck Jim was the window at the side that took up a whole wall. It looked down into the enclosed dock. Stocker must have seen his interest, because he walked with Jim over to it. They both stood and watched the busy beehive of activity inside the dome as ships of all sizes and shapes docked, undocked, loaded, unloaded, and were worked on. And this was only a section of the inner workings going on.

"Always good to hear," Stocker said as he looked over the activity himself. "And a bit surprising, considering the crowd I had set up to meet you."

"Just to meet me?"

"Oh, yes," Stocker said with a smile. "I decided it would be better for as many Captains who regularly run through this area to meet you in person, _before _they formed an opinion on you from the upcoming Recruitment promotion. If they think well of you now, they can pass the word along."

"And if they don't?"

"I very much doubt that will be the case," Stocker said with a smile as he turned to walk back behind his desk.

"I see you've settled in successfully," Jim said. He followed Stocker to take the visitors chair. "Everything running well, I hear."

"I like to think so," Stocker said with a small bit of pride as he settled behind his desk. "And I've heard that you've married your CMO. Congratulations on that, by the way."

"Thank you, Sir."

"On Risa, you told me that your team was so successful because you got to know your people, their strengths and weaknesses. Strategy wise, that's been_ good_ advice. I've taken it to heart, and have made an effort to be a _'people person'_. I'm not sure how successful I am with personal relationships, but I have learned that all my people are not merely tokens on a board game."

Stocker shook his head. "I've found many have strengths beyond their assigned jobs or positions, and can be called upon for projects beyond their assigned roles. And others can be nudged into more flexibility if offered more training. So, I feel I owe you not just for saving my life, Captain Kirk, but for much of my success so far."

"I'm glad I could help," Jim replied, meaning every word.

"So, let me get straight to the point of this meeting," Stocker said. "The word from Starfleet Command is that I'm to impress upon you, _in person_, how _important_ this documentary is. I'm sure Admiral Roberts has gone over the fact that recruitment is down, so I'll skip that part. United-Data now has an exclusive agreement for access to you. They already had a news-crew here, to cover the reports of various, suspected _incursions_ across the Romulan and Klingon Neutral Zones. They are the ones who will be doing the documentary, with Starfleet's final say on what actually gets aired."

Stocker held up a hand to forestall Jim's next question.

"_None_ of the reported _'incursions_' have been verified by a Federation ship, nor left any evidence that we've been able to follow up on, as you've heard. Yet we all know, unofficially, that the Orion Union funds, supports, and hides many of the pirate ships in this area and in the Open Zone, which is only a few weeks warp away for most ships with even the most common, lower-level warp technology.

Stocker shook his head. "Other than what you and I both know from our time at Risa, which is classified, there have been no _official _sightings of Romulans on our side of the Neutral Zone."

Jim understood. There were not only the up-front and in-your-face hostilities at this juncture, but with the Orions, and the Open Zone, where he and McCoy had first met John, any claimed sighting of Romulan activity in the area had to be confirmed. With solid evidence.

Because a confirmed trespass could be the start of a war.

"Many travelers through this area are, with reason, nervous," Stocker said with a frown. "There's only so much Starfleet can do with our current status. Which, of course, brings the news-feeds out to keep an eye on the situation. I have had one meeting with the crew, which consists of three. The reporter in charge, Bingrow Halman, his audio technician and assistant, and video technician. Have you heard of him? I hadn't."

"Actually, I _think _I have," Jim said with surprise. "Isn't he some award-winning reporter, that has a huge following?"

"So I've been told," Stocker said with a grimace. "I'm too busy to follow the news-feeds independently, so have my staff keep an eye on them. I have had one, very quick, meeting with them, and found Bingrow Halman to be rather flighty, easily distracted, vain, and a bit dull. Yet, this is supposedly an award-winning, highly respected journalist."

Jim felt any hopes he had of coming out of this situation with some dignity plummet.

It must have shown on his face, because Stocker just nodded at his reaction and continued.

"So, I am going to do you a _favor_, Captain," Stocker began, then pushed the comm button on his desk. "Debra, send in Yeoman Rand, please."

"Yes, Sir. She'll be one moment."

Stocker turned back to Jim.

"I'm assigning you a Personal Yeoman, since I see from your records that you have never requested one."

"A Personal Yeoman?" Jim asked with surprise. "Sir? If I may, I have never found the need for a Personal Yeoman, preferring to handle the details of the job myself. And as the Yeoman classification has very limited admissions anymore, I would hate to take one away from--"

"It's an _order_, Captain," Stocker said shortly. "As of _now_, you have one on loan from my office, and I think you will find Yeoman Janice Rand perfectly capable of fulfilling her combined duties as personal secretary and assistant. In fact, she can cut to the chase rather brutally at times, but it's part of her efficiency. Please answer all of her questions, even if they seem a bit off the wall. I've found out the hard way that the more she knows, the better she works. She's done amazing things here in the past year."

The comm buzzed.

"Yeoman Rand is here."

"Send her in, Rachel."

Stocker stood, as did Jim, as he watched the door while trying to hide the confusion and consternation he felt.

Yeoman's in Starfleet were a mixed lot. Usually unassigned to a specific area, they had not completed Academy training. They were willing to take posts as a sort of vocational training, to try various jobs and workstations to figure out what they were good at and where their interests lie. Some took the Yeoman position to serve in their chosen field while being tutored in those areas that had kept them from graduating, or would give them enough education credits to bypass some classes. And while there were various classes of rank within the Yeoman designation, from the lowly 3rd class to Junior Officer, they were still on the lowest chain of command, and could technically be ordered to any task by those around them.

There were Yeomen on the Bridge of the _Enterprise_, in various stations. Being unassigned, they were suitable for those last-minute jobs that needed someone who could leave a station, or the bridge, on errands. Jim had never requested a Personal Yeoman, one to be assigned to him and him alone. One he could order to do anything a secretary or personal assistant would do. That could include overseeing the house cleaning services of his cabin, fetching his meals or fresh clothing, schedule meetings, organize and have him sign daily reports, read and sort his messages, schedule activities or book rooms for him for his days off. Or even shop for his unborn niece and nephews.

All things Jim would rather do for himself.

Yeoman Rand strode confidently into the room and stood at attention. The same height as Uhura, her blue eyes kept a sharp focus on the wall behind Stocker's desk. She was young and Human. Her Reds were impeccable, and with nary a hair on her otherwise woven, artistically sculptured, mass of blond strands out of place. She had an oversized PADD tucked under one arm, and she gave the impression of carrying it with the respect of a loaded weapon.

"Yeoman Rand, reporting for duty, Sir."

"At ease, Yeoman," Stocker said with a nod her way.

"On _loan_, Commodore?" Jim asked.

"Yes," Stocker said shortly. He turned to Rand. "Yeoman Rand, as of this moment you are assigned to the_ Enterprise_, as the Captain's Personal Yeoman. Captain Kirk, I appreciate you attending this meeting on such short notice. You may use one of the conference rooms down the hall to get acquainted and get started on this documentary assignment, of which the Yeoman has been well informed and has all the pertinent details."

Both Jim and Rand looked each other over a bit warily.

"Commodore--"

"That will be _all_, Captain. Yeoman. Have a nice day."

Stocker had dismissed them both with politeness, but with such force behind it that Jim found he could only obey.

_Okay. He thinks he's doing me a favor? _

_I guess I'll have to trust him on that._

He followed Rand out into the waiting area, and straight past Stocker's secretary with only a polite nod between her and Rand.

Then, like a puppy, found that he had no choice but to follow her. She was the one who would know what room Stocker was referring to.

Picking a seemingly random door down the hall, Rand pushed the button to request admittance, then turned and stepped aside to face Jim.

"Captain?" She waved a hand to signal him to enter first.

He did.

It was a lovely meeting room. Small, but empty.

Rand followed him in, and they faced each other. Before Jim could say anything, Rand spoke up.

"Captain, permission to speak my mind, _freely?"_

_So soon? She's confident, I'll give her that. Let's get it all out in the open._

"_Always_," Jim said, watching her eyes widen a bit at his blanket permission.

'_Always_' was a rare privilege to grant a Junior Officer. Especially for one so new to their post. _'Granted' _was the usual response, good for just that one discussion. _'Denied' _was just as likely.

In some commands, even asking was frowned upon. And heaven help them if they were seeking to go over another officer's head. In a lot of situations, that was serious and could get them insubordination charges.

By giving Rand '_Always_' privileges, until otherwise rescinded, of course, he not only hoped to find out exactly what was going on, but that she'd realize he didn't want them to work so closely together and be adversaries.

"Thank you, Captain," Rand said, looking him in the eye. "It will make things much easier for both of us if I don't have to tread lightly. I realize that you have never requested a Personal Yeoman, but that doesn't mean you don't need one. In fact, until I can go through your personal schedule and files on the _Enterprise_, I'm going to assume that you need one. Badly. Or Commander Stocker wouldn't have pulled me off of my current assignment. I have done as much study of you as I could, in the time allowed. But I need much more information before I can do my job properly."

"How long have you known about this?" Jim asked.

"Since exactly four p.m., Alpha shift, yesterday," Rand answered briskly.

"Since yesterday?"

"Now, to get _started_," Rand began, bringing her PADD up to start typing frantically with one hand. "It is now Alpha shift, Federation time, and I see that Bingrow Halman has requested a meeting over drinks, at 10 pm., at the _Resplendent_, with you and your husband, a Doctor Leonard McCoy. That is a very expensive bar and restaurant in the living module. This is a bit late for a first meeting, and the _Resplendent_ is known for its liquor selection, and for its aged Orion wine. They may be hoping that you will over-indulge and be more amiable to talking freely with them. What time do you usually eat dinner?"

"Uh..." Jim was taken aback at Rand's rapid-fire delivery. "Usually early on Beta shift. Six or seven p.m."

"Good," Rand said with a nod. "We'll schedule your evening meal for six p.m. and move the meeting to eight p.m. They'll agree at this stage. The right food in your stomach will help cut down the absorption rate of the alcohol Halman is known to ply his interviewees with. I'll send your specific dinner requirements to your chef when I get everything set up on the_ Enterprise_. Also, you won't be meeting Mr. Halman at the tail end of a long day, when you're tired."

Rand looked up at him, and Jim suddenly realized she was waiting for his permission.

"Fine. Eight p.m. is fine."

"Good," she said briskly. "Are you naturally a heavy drinker?"

"I guess it depends on what you mean by _heavy_," Jim admitted. "But certainly _not_ when it's work-related."

"Can you hold your liquor, or should I have the restaurant limit your consumption, behind the scenes?" She asked, her eyes holding no apparent judgment. "I've worked with that establishment before. I can arrange to have them slip you juice after a certain point if--"

"I can police my own intake, thank you," Jim said shortly, a bit annoyed. "I don't plan on being there very long."

"And what about your husband?" Rand asked. "What are your wishes concerning his limit?"

"My husband?" Jim asked with surprise. "He's an adult. He can decide. But I'll have to check with him before agreeing to his attending. He's been ill, and has just come out of --"

"They have specifically requested to meet with the _two_ of you," Rand said, punching away on her PADD. "But if he's been ill, they'll have to take that as a legitimate excuse. But if he can at all make it, he should. Maybe you could order him a mandatory nap before dinner?"

"_Order_ him to take a _nap_? Like a _child_?" Jim asked, taken aback by the suggestion. "That's not_ exactly_ how our marriage works. I mean, _yes_, he's ordered me to sleep, on occasion, but he's the _CMO_, and that's part of a doctor's job to--"

"He_ is_ a lower-ranking officer, isn't he? You can order him to do so if he needs one?" Rand sighed and dropped her PADD down a bit. She looked up at Jim speculatively.

"Captain, I must confess that none of the other officers I've worked with have had a spouse, although they did have some _civilian_ 'Significant Others'. Sometimes more than one. This could complicate things. From what I understand, your husband is also high on United-Data's list of interview subjects. I'm not only to handle your schedule but _his _as well, since he is a Starfleet Officer."

"Yeah, well, I'm hoping to keep him out of this as much as possible."

Rand then squinted at him and frowned.

"You have a reputation, Captain, when it come to your Academy years. So, I feel the need to make the boundaries clear while I have permission to speak freely. Sir," Rand said firmly. "So, there will be no misunderstandings. I am not here to be any kind of sexual support, nor will I tolerate being treated as such. I will not flirt with you, and expect that you will not flirt with me. Well..." Rand admitted, her eyes drifting off to the far wall as she thought. "I'll amend that. I won't flirt with you unless it's useful to extract you from a situation. If you think I'm flirting in any way, take it as a way to pull you out of a meeting or personal conversation where only that kind of distraction will do. It will not be followed up on, of course. And if your marriage is open-ended, or you're prone to having affairs, it's vital that I know. If you wish your spouse to be kept in the dark about--"

"No!" Jim felt as if an unseen ocean tied had washed him out to sea, and he was floundering a bit. "_No _flirting, _no_ messing around, for either of us. Bones and me._ Strictly _monogamous. And what kind of reputation do I have?"

"Good," Rand said, clearly ignoring his last question. She pulled up her PADD to type something. Her eyebrow went up as she looked back up at him. "So, if he requests information on your schedule, I'm permitted to give him a complete copy? Nor do I need to sort through any physical mail you should receive, before he sees it? And.._. Bones_?"

"A nickname, only**_ I_** use. Everyone on the Bridge is used to it. And my husband is _never_ to be kept out of a loop, unless..." Jim faltered. There had been some exceptions in the past. "Unless it's a _security _clearance problem. I'll let you know if that happens, though. Otherwise, he's in the loop and will probably _need _that copy of my schedule."

"Good to know," Rand said, adding something to a complicated list that Jim had only gotten a glimpse of, upside down. "How much _personal _access is he allowed?"

"To... _me_?" Jim asked, stunned at the question. "_Complete_. Always."

Rand frowned a bit as she typed.

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Yes!" Jim said with exasperation. "We've been married for over two years. We have a working balance. Is this _really_ necessary?"

Rand looked up at Jim chidingly. "Really, Sir, if you're this sensitive to questions of a work nature, then you're not going to have much patience left by the end of the evening. Have you seen a Bingrow Halman documentary? One of his reports?"

"I think. A few, here and there," Jim admitted.

"Then I'll line up some for you to view. Pity we won't have time to get them in tonight, before the reservation."

Several tiny lights, barely pinpricks, that ringed around the edge of her PADD flashed.

"Ah, the United-Data crew has accepted the eight p.m. drink reservation. Now, that gives us a few hours to get back to the _Enterprise_, get me hooked up to your personal computer, get me logged in with your permissions, and study your long-term habits while on and off the ship. I have a lot of studying to do, and want to get it done before your interview tonight."

"We can head back now," Jim said. "I don't have anything pressing to do on the station until later this afternoon."

"I see that. My own luggage will be aboard the _Enterprise_ already," Rand continued as she turned to the door, and waved him to it after it opened. She looked a little frustrated that he hadn't caught on that she'd been ready to go, and she was supposed to follow _him_. "I just need a tiny room. I won't be there much. I've had my new orders as your Personal Yeoman sent to the _Enterprise_. They're now asking for your confirmation."

She held up the PADD and he took it. It was like looking at a whole network center, dozens of screens in one, with all kinds of charts and information flashing or rolling across the screen.

_She already sent the request, and has had her luggage delivered?_

_And she's looked me up, studied my file, and done further research? _

_Just since yesterday afternoon?_

_Yeah, I can see where she's been an enormous help to Stocker in running this place._

He saw the message from the _Enterprise_, as well as over two dozen tabs of other files and notices blinking in various colors and speeds for her attention. Along with the scrolling rolls of information across the sides and bottoms, all looking like starbase schedules and every list the starbase was producing, in real-time.

_Time-sensitive, flash-speed, and color rating on every tab and screen._

_Some type of shorthand system I haven't seen before? Is that Zindiq?_

_She could be running this whole starbase from that PADD, and who'd know?_

Feeling a bit awed at her management skills, Jim signed it, placing his thumb on the spot indicated next to his signature.

"We should head back to the shuttle now," Rand said, eyes on her PADD as she walked into the corridor. "Where is your shuttle waiting?"

"I was just going to take one of the regularly scheduled ones back. They run every--"

"That _won't _do," Rand said with a distracted shake of her head. "You will have a personal shuttle and pilot waiting for your use, whenever you leave the ship. I'll arrange for you to have a shuttle set aside for your personal use only, and a personal station dock reserved, as well as pilots to be ready around the clock in case you need to leave at a moment's notice."

"All right," Jim agreed.

_Might as well. I'm not going to have much unscheduled time for a while, it appears. _

"I won't be welcome to attend this meeting with the United-Data crew," Rand admitted. "But make no mistake, Captain. They'll be negotiating with you on what kind of access you're going to allow them during the next week. _Please_ don't make any commitments as to time, location, or subject matter unless and until I'm around. Refer them to me. I can't act as a buffer between you and the news-crew if I'm not there."

Jim stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked at her in surprise.

"A buffer?" Jim asked. "Commodore Stocker assigned you to me to be my personal roadblock?"

"Of course!" Rand said, looking at him in surprise, clearly a little disappointed that he hadn't been keeping up. Then she turned away and started walking again. He had to hurry to catch up.

"You'll be eating lunch in your Ready Room while we get my access entered and you attend to your reports. Do you have any lunch preferences? Any dietary restriction? Dinner will be in your cabin at six p.m. sharp for you both," Rand said, her tone firm, but not quite over any line he could object to. "Doctor McCoy is free to do as he wishes until then. The Galley can deliver both meals. Here's a compatible list of items that you should eat for a night of drinking. Which do you prefer?"

Jim looked it over as they entered an empty lift and Rand tilted her PADD over to him.

"I have a number one in the system," Jim said. "Tell him to go with that. It has what's on the list."

"And your husband, does he have any allergies or restrictions, food-wise?"

"No, but he does have his own preferences so--"

"What level?" Rand asked, impatiently.

Jim realized he'd not told the lift their destination. He did so.

"I've sent Doctor McCoy the list of food choices allowed, and have asked for his dinner order," Rand said as they were taken to the correct level. "I see that he currently shares the same shift you do, so that shouldn't be a problem as long as he's still on the ship?"

"He is, and he will be. As far as I know."

"Good. Then you two can go over exactly what you intend to discuss tonight while you eat."

"We're just supposed to_ meet _the news-crew. Not be interviewed."

"Oh, it's an _interview_, don't be fooled," Rand said, throwing him a side glance. "Every second you're with them, expect it to be recorded in some way."

Jim's comm buzzed. He pulled it out, and Rand frowned but held her tongue as he glanced at it.

It was from Bones.

** _'Jim? Who is this Yeoman Rand, and why is she giving me orders? Are we really having drinks with that news-crew at 8? _ **

Jim typed back.

**'Explain later. Think you can make it okay? Promise we won't be out late.'**

** _'I'll be fine. Feeling much better. I just won't drink much.'_ **

**'Great! My misery will love your company."**

** _'Why does she want to know my dinner preferences? She's not asking me out, is she?'_ **

**'New Yeoman, on loan. Explain later. Pick from the list, or I'll have to pick your dinner for you.'**

Bones didn't message back, but it only took a few more strides down the hall before Rand, eyes on her PADD, smiled and nodded.

"He's responded. I'll send the Galley his choice as well," she said airily. She looked up at Jim expectantly. "It will be extra work, for me to keep track of his preferences and schedule as well as yours."

"I'm sure you're completely up to it, Yeoman Rand," Jim said with sincerity.

_And how. I think that if I asked nicely, she'd be willing to handle the schedules of everyone aboard! _

_I suspect she could do it, too._

All the way back to the ship, Rand asked questions, processed various bits of information, and did things behind the scenes that Jim could only guess at. Jim found himself feeling as if he'd been carried away by a riptide that not only had he not seen coming, but was stronger than he was.

_It does feel like I now have my own, personal tsunami, _Jim thought, amused. _At least I won't drown in info, either from the station, Starfleet, or the United-Data news-crew._

_If she doesn't see fit to put it on my schedule, I won't have **time** to go under!_


	3. Chapter 3

***

Chapter Three

***

Doctor Leonard McCoy stood in his Dress Blues, cap under arm, just to Jim's left in the entryway of the restaurant. They were a few minutes early to meet the news-crew, so were watching the other customers come and go.

It was a welcomed respite. It gave him a few minutes to breathe, which wasn't comfortable in this uniform at the best of times. He was feeling tired, but otherwise a lot better than he had just yesterday. And he was long past being contagious, so that was a plus as well.

That nap Jim asked him to take had helped. He'd slept almost all afternoon. McCoy was almost surprised that Jim's new Yeoman hadn't ordered him to take one.

What hadn't helped either of their moods was when McCoy got his first glimpse of the Recruitment advertisement. It had seemed funny on the comm, where it looked small and relatively harmless. But seeing them through Starbase 12 as they made their way to their appointment felt kind of creepy. Even McCoy felt like too many people were noticing them, when it could just be their uniforms getting the attention.

And it was definitely _not_ Jim's best picture ever.

Since Jim was ignoring it with stone-faced insistence, McCoy did the same.

"Jim," McCoy whispered, "are we sure that Yeoman is all _Human_? I swear she must be part Vulcan, because I don't think I've ever seen a Human retain so much information at a glance. That's scary."

"I know," Jim whispered back. "I thought**_ I _**had a pretty good handle on things, but she's... she's_ talented_."

"And really _nosy_," McCoy said, mind back on the whirlwind meeting. McCoy must have answered a hundred questions over dinner. And Rand had gone over their uniforms with a critical eye. By the time she'd approved, McCoy felt like he'd been stripped down to the bone and rebuilt. He'd tried not to take the probing personally, but he hadn't liked it. At all. But Jim had signaled to him that it was best he didn't drag his feet. So, he'd tried to answer honestly and politely.

"Why all those questions about my ex-wife and divorce?"

Jim sighed. "It was in your files, and she was checking them for errors. And reminding us that anything and everything in our past could, and probably will, come up at some point during the week."

"Do we _have_ to answer?" McCoy asked, now getting a better idea of what Jim was dreading about this assignment. "I mean _their_ questions, not hers."

"Not personal ones, no," Jim said. "We're not being debriefed, or under oath. But for heaven's sake, don't lie, exaggerate, or get sarcastic. The news-crew will run with that if they find you're doing it, and we'd have to try to correct it later. And Starfleet probably doesn't want us to get too personal."

Jim turned to look at him, sympathy in his eyes. "It's going to come up. We know Jacquelyn threatened to tell her story. You'll need to be prepared for that."

Annoyance rushed through McCoy, but he just met Jim's eyes and nodded.

"I also worry about Sam," Jim continued. "Maybe, by the time we get back, we'll have a message from him and John. I don't want them harassed over this, but we have no control over the civilian's looking to tie in with this documentary."

"At least Starfleet can't order Sam to do a damned thing," McCoy said with a sigh. "But you're right. George was his father as well, and he was older. So, they'll probably be trying to get any new story out of him about your Dad that they can. Something he's not mentioned, or talked about, since the last time he talked to the media. Which was... what? When he was sixteen?"

"Before then, I think." Jim frowned and shook his head. "When they lost interest in me, I was about ten. They'd already lost interest in him and Mom. I was mostly a _'where are they now'_ story. Sam probably wasn't even on their radar by then. When I was about six, I remember Mom giving them the bare-bones info about me at the time, and they took some vids. I think Sam was at school. I remember Mom enjoyed talking about Dad, and they kept trying to get me to sit still and pay attention to Mom's stories. But I'd heard them before, and so had they. I just wanted to play with my toys, or go outside and play. I wasn't really sure why they wanted to talk to me. It took me a few years to really understand what was going on with that."

Jim threw McCoy a guarded look. "But later, I tended to see myself in the media when I got old enough to be interesting. When I graduated early... when Starfleet officially introduced the _'Kelvin Pods'_ to the bridge for evacuation purposes... One time I got drunk in Montana and got arrested after a bar fight... When they caught me at some menial jobs I'd taken after I left home. Whenever I'd hit a low point, or did something stupid, I seemed to see it echoed somewhere, in the media. I imagine it'll all come out now. One way or another."

"Maybe find out the names of all those kids they've been saying you have on all those planets?" McCoy asked with a straight face. "Because if I'm going to be co-parenting a huge brood when their mama's drop them off for the summer, I need to get their names straight. And all those famous models you're dating? I could get all their autographs when you all hook up, and auction them off for retirement money."

Jim suddenly smiled, then tried to hide it. His eyes were laughing when he glanced back at McCoy. "You ready for that? All my past liaisons coming to the forefront?"

McCoy smiled back. "Since I was your wingman for most of your tomcatting at the Academy, I can hardly plead ignorance about it, can I?"

Jim chuckled. "You can't say you weren't warned about my history."

"Hardly," McCoy admitted, glad the mood had been lightened a little. "So, what's the plan for tonight? I know Rand had her list of acceptable subjects. But other than me keeping my mouth shut...?"

"We'll keep it _short _and sweet," Jim said, eyes watching the new arrivals, looking for the United-Data crew. "_One_ drink. Meet Mr. Halman and his crew, be pleasant, have them contact Rand in the morning for their boarding schedule and set up their itinerary with her. Go over the fact that there's a lot of places on the ship they're not allowed--"

"Which will be MedBay, if they bother any of my patients," McCoy said firmly.

"--and see what they're like. Starfleet has total control of any footage they record, video or audio. And complete vetting of anything that goes into the documentary."

"You mean anything classified, or anything that they feel tarnishes _their_ image. But not necessarily yours."

As another group entered the room, Jim turned to glance at McCoy. "I think that's them. Showtime."

The Human man leading a small group of three was of medium height, dark brown hair worn a bit long, a medium complexion, and dark brown eyes. He was gaunt, but the expensive dark suit with the high collar was impeccably tailored, telling McCoy that he was probably normally thin. He also looked to use the UV beds a bit too much, not that there was a cancer risk to them anymore. Although middle-aged, his skin didn't have a healthy look to it. Off to the man's left was a young, black-haired, Orion woman, and off to his right was a Human woman McCoy judged to be in that vague range between her forties and sixties. Both were elegant in black dresses that were modest and carefully tailored.

"Captain _Kirk!_" the man said loudly, his well-practiced smile not really reaching his eyes. He came over quickly, his hand held out for Jim's. "The _Kelvin Baby_ in the flesh! It is_ so_ wonderful to meet you! You can't know how _privileged_ I, Bingrow Halman, am to have the _honor_ of this assignment!"

McCoy tried not to wince as the other well-dressed restaurant customers in the small entry area flashed looks at them, all filled with surprise and interest. It was clear that Mr. Halman wanted to spread the word far and wide what kind of assignment he'd snagged.

Precisely the kind of reaction McCoy knew Jim had always hoped to avoid when he was recognized.

McCoy stood back as Jim smiled and reached out for Halman's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Halman," Jim said, shaking the man's hand firmly. Jim then turned slightly toward McCoy. "Let me introduce the CMO of the _Enterprise_, and my husband, Doctor Leonard McCoy."

"Doctor McCoy!" Halman said, also at a level slightly too loud for the room. He held out his hand as Halman's eyes raked quickly over him. "The infamous_ thief_ himself! Oh, no... just _kidding!_ I know it was retracted, and all that. But you certainly became a popular search topic on the news-feeds for a while!"

If Starfleet did one thing, it was to teach their cadets to fake a respectful greeting. McCoy did just that, by putting on his best smile and shaking Halman's hand just long enough, with a grip just hard enough, to be polite. It was difficult, but he thought he pulled it off.

"A bit of a _miscommunication_, I'm afraid," McCoy said, fighting not to clench his teeth.

_Bastard's hitting hard, right out of the gate. _

_Wants to see what makes us sweat._

"Yes, I'm _sure_," Halman said with a predator's smile. He turned to the women behind him. He waved a hand toward the Orion woman. "This is Yandel, my audio tech and personal assistant, and..." his hand indicated the other woman, "Maria Burrows, my video technician."

"Pleased to meet you," Jim said with a nod toward both of the women.

Both nodded back, but didn't speak.

"Well, let's see to our drinks, shall we?" Halman asked, at a level that was lower than before, but still too loud for McCoy's comfort. He waved toward the Host who was checking all reservations.

"Delighted," Jim said, following Halman.

McCoy indicated the women should proceed him, and both smiled and nodded as they followed Jim and their boss.

Soon, they were being shown through the regular dining room, to an even more grand, though slightly smaller, room in the back that held a bar. It was filled with well-dressed people talking in small groups.

_I knew this place was expensive. But this seems even more upscale than I thought._

_I wonder what kind of allowance United-Data gives their news-crews?_

_Or if they're blowing a lot more credits on this than they should, to make a good impression._

They were led further still into the restaurant, to a set of very expensively furnished, private rooms in the very back. Theirs was small, but comfortable, lined with what looked to be real cloth wallpaper, dark furniture with a leather-like upholstery, along with glass end and coffee tables with black, wrought-iron frames, which was echoed in the ceiling fixtures. The light was a bit dim, and only the faintest hint of orchestral music flowed through the room. There were a couple of two-person couches and three matching, heavily padded single seats in between. The area felt intimate.

Halman indicated that Jim should choose his seat first. Jim decided on one of the couches, glancing at McCoy to make sure he took a place next to him. They both deposited their caps on side tables and took a printed menu from the server who had shown them the room. Halman took the opposite couch, spreading himself out comfortably. The ladies took the single chairs. Yandel draped herself artistically across one, sitting at the edge, leaning in toward Halman, her eyes more on him than Jim or McCoy. Burrows made herself comfortable, but leaned away from her companions.

It looked to McCoy as if Burrows was glad to give both Halman and Yandel their space.

_Can't blame her there. So far, he doesn't seem like someone I'd want to spend much time with._

The menu had no prices listed, so McCoy chose a white, Terran wine that he didn't _think_ would break anyone's wallet. Jim chose a small, lesser-brand whiskey.

McCoy was surprised when Halman not only ordered for himself, but for the ladies as well. McCoy recognized Halman's drink as expensive, and the lady's weren't.

_Well, we definitely know who's the boss. _

_And who got charge of the expense account._

_I bet they'll be glad to know their Starship accommodations and food will be free._

_Halman won't get to control the purse strings there._

As soon as the server left with their order, Halman took a small comm out of his pocket and checked the screen. He then set it on the coffee table between them.

"I have been _so _looking forward to this, Captain Kirk," Halman said with a smile, settling back on the couch. "You're a hard man to get any information on since you joined Starfleet. And you, Doctor McCoy?" Halman shook his head. "Practically nothing out there on you. This documentary could be the making of all of us."

"I doubt I'm all that interesting," Jim replied, looking attentive, but relaxed. "I do realize the anniversary of the loss of the _Kelvin_ may be of some interest, here and there. But I feel that my father's story has been told, as well as it could have been. I'm afraid I can't really add anything to it."

"Ah, but now that your mother has passed, surely there's more information that can be released?" Halman asked, looking at Jim expectantly. "Along with your mother's story, of course. How, exactly, did she pass on, if I may ask? Information on her has been very... spare, for quite a long time now."

McCoy schooled his features, feeling Jim tense beside him.

"My mother was a scientist," Jim said casually, shrugging. "She was very, very devoted to her work. There was some kind of accident. I'm afraid the details of what happened have been... kept within the circle of those who need to know. The details are not publicly available. She signed a security clause, I'm afraid, in case the unthinkable should happen. Apparently, it did."

"Are you in that circle, Captain?" Halman asked, watching Jim closely.

"I believe that my mother lived her life as she wished," Jim said. "Of her death, I can only assume she knew the risks and believed that they were worth taking."

"And you, Doctor McCoy?"

McCoy found himself the sudden subject of Halman's complete attention. It unsettled him a bit.

"I'm afraid that I mostly know Winona Kirk through her sons," McCoy said. "I didn't get to know her very well."

Halman watched them both sharply. "You both seemed resigned to not knowing."

"My mother died doing what she loved," Jim said with a thin smile. "I'll have to be content with that."

The server arrived with their drinks, and McCoy felt grateful for the few minutes reprieve from questioning.

Halman frowned at the intrusion. The ladies both looked relaxed, but McCoy could feel their attention on both him and Jim. Still, neither spoke.

Everyone sipped at their drinks, and the server had barely left when Halman, drink in hand, turned back toward McCoy.

"And you, Doctor? Such a thin history? Surely you're a bit more interesting than your past would indicate?" Halman smiled at him. "At least, in those many years before the infamous arrest warrant drew everyone's attention. You must have _some_ hidden depths, to have captured the heart of such a nomad as James Kirk."

McCoy smiled at him, then took a small sip of his drink before answering.

"I'm not all that complicated a man," McCoy admitted. "I'm boring."

"Now,_ that_ I can't believe," Halman said with a slight smile. "I can't wait until the interviews start, so we can all learn about how this unlikely love story happened."

"It's not so _unlikely_ as you seem to think," Jim said casually as he tasted his drink.

_Halman's digging for a response, _McCoy decided. _He's trying for some type of reaction, throwing out trigger words. He knows we've been ordered to cooperate, and may not want to. So, if we won't willingly talk, maybe he can poke us here and there with something to get us mad or frustrated._

_And he's already started._

"So," Halman said, waving a hand as he changed the subject, "since I've been assured that we will be getting your_ complete_ cooperation, I'd like to begin tomorrow. First thing. We can be ready to board your ship at six a.m., ready to roll, then to a tour of your ship, which shouldn't take more than an hour, and then--"

"Sorry to interrupt," Jim said, sounding firm but polite, "but I'm afraid you'll need to coordinate all this with my Personal Yeoman. I can give you her comm number, and she'll be able to set us up a schedule. Including the ship's tour. Which I'm sure you'll find very informative."

Halman took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing as he studied Jim. His tone was calm, but also firm.

"Really, Captain, my crew and I have done this _many _times. I'm well known for my award-winning documentaries. While I'm sure your Yeoman is competent, I usually use an informal method. Following my subject, with my crew, as they live their lives. Documenting even the slightest things. Sticking to a set schedule will take the... spontaneity out of things."

"I'm sure that's true, in some respects," Jim said carefully. "But I _am_ a working Starfleet Officer, and Captain of one of Starfleet's Flagships. Doctor McCoy is a working doctor, and Chief Medical Officer. We will be on-duty for most of the next week, even while in dock. There _are_ places in the ship where any recording is prohibited, and situations where you actually might be in the way. So, you'll have my Yeoman at your disposal, to help you navigate all the regulations and rules about such things that Starfleet has in place. For your own safety."

Halman frowned. "That is not what I understood the agreement between United-Data and Starfleet to be."

"I'm sure my Yeoman can help you with that, as well."

Halman put his drink down on the coffee table. "Surely we can come to some sort of arrangement that would suit both parties. You will excuse my team and me for a moment?"

"Of course," Jim said. "Take your time."

Halman, looking put out, got up to go to the hallway. Both women got up to follow him.

But, the woman who'd been introduced as Maria Burrows hung back for half a second too long. She frowned at them both, her back to Halman and Yandel. Then looked pointedly at the comm Halman had left on the table. Then she looked back at them, raised one eyebrow, and turned to join the other two in the hallway.

_It's on,_ McCoy realized with a start. _He's left it to record any conversation we have while they're gone._

McCoy looked at Jim and saw the same realization in Jim's eyes.

_Bastard! So, it's going to be like that, is it?_

_What do we do? Sit here and say nothing until they get back?_

Jim took another sip of his whiskey. They were quiet for a few minutes, while Halman and his crew seemed to have some important conversation just out of earshot. Jim gave up and broke the silence.

"How's your wine, Bones?"

_Okay, that's a safe topic, I guess._

"Fine," McCoy said, taking another sip. "Very fruity. Tastes like crushed grapes. A bit fermented."

Jim smiled. "I hear that's a good thing, with wine."

"How's your whiskey?"

Jim held up his glass to look at it. "Sweet. Wet. Want to trade?"

"And expose myself to your germs? Okay."

They traded glasses.

_I know Jim said not to exaggerate, lie, or get sarcastic. But if they're hoping to get something useful out of this conversation, why not make it interesting?_

"Nice weather," McCoy said, tasting Jim's whiskey. It was a bit sweet for him. "Maybe we could take all the kids out for a drive."

Jim smiled, catching on.

"Might rain tomorrow."

"Think so?"

"Probably."

"Better close the windows when we get home, then," McCoy said with a slight smile. "I think I left the ones upstairs open."

"Take the laundry in off the line," Jim said casually. "I hung the sheets out today. I love it when they smell like a freshly mown lawn. Don't want to have to rewash them."

McCoy chuckled, enjoying the unusual topic of conversation. "Let the dog out. He's been inside all day."

"What's our dog's name again?"

"Spot. He doesn't have any."

Jim chuckled.

Halman and the ladies came back into the room. All three smiling.

_I wonder if the ladies ever get to talk. Maybe they've given up on ever doing so._

"Gentlemen," Halman said as he sat. "I think that we can come to a mutual agreement. I will contact your Yeoman and schedule our first day. Then we can see about playing it by ear?"

"I'll give you the Yeoman's contact number," Jim said politely.

"Now, let's get down to the nitty-gritty of it all," Halman said. "The loss of the _Kelvin_, its mysterious attacker, and how you fit into it all is such a _fascinating_ story, Captain. Your father gave his life to save over eight hundred of his fellow crewmen, including you and your mother. Destroyed by a mysterious entity that, after the attack, disappeared for a quarter of a century. Leaving those left behind feeling the awe and horror at the vastness, and inherent dangers of space travel. But also inspired by that story of self-sacrifice and heroism! And then! The child saved by that selfless act of sacrifice, comes back out of obscurity to confront, and _defeat_, his father's murderer, and save_ Earth_ besides!"

Halman sat back with a dramatic sigh. "A tale fit for _lore_, Captain. For _history!_ And history will want to know who you _are_, the man behind the position. What makes you _tick_. What makes you _strive_ to explore a universe that you know can take your life at any moment. The public wants to know _you_. And the thirtieth anniversary of the _Kelvin_'s loss is just the right time for you to come out of the shadows, Captain. To remind us, all of us, why space exploration is so important. As well as to garner some of the attention and accolade due to you, in return for your efforts to protect and save Earth."

McCoy could feel Jim tense beside him.

_All the things he's never wanted. Doesn't feel that he deserves, and wouldn't know what to do with._

_Halman's speech didn't have the effect he thought it would._

"Mr. Halman," Jim said tightly. "There is nothing exceptional about my history, or what I've managed to accomplish. There's nothing I've done that someone else couldn't have done, if they'd have been in the same situation. And had the support of a group of talented, intelligent, and highly adaptable people that I've had the privilege to command. I'm afraid that you and your public are fated to not only be disappointed, but terribly bored, if you insist that I be the focus of your story."

"Then," Halman said with a smile, waving a hand to indicate the station around them, "this will be the time, and opportunity, to sing _their_ praises, don't you think? And to take those praises to heart, won't the public have to know you? You have been able to hide very well behind the wall Starfleet service has erected around you, Captain. But it won't last forever. Why not use what fame you do have to promote your causes? Starfleet certainly thinks that you can be of service, just by letting the public get to know you. What could be the downside to that?"

McCoy could feel Jim's annoyance build.

_Halman's trying to push all of Jim's buttons. If he can't get Jim interested in talking about himself, then nudge him to talk about the rest of the crew._

_This isn't the time. Short and sweet, Jim said._

"All good points," McCoy said dryly, before Jim could respond. "And I'm sure will make good conversation, someday."

Halman looked at McCoy with surprise, as if he'd been so focused on Jim that he'd forgotten McCoy was there. McCoy threw back the last bit of whiskey. He placed the glass on the table and moved to stand. Jim set the wine glass on the table as well and followed suit.

"And as one of Jim's biggest fans, but especially as his husband, I'm afraid I'll have to pull my _'doctor_' card and call this an evening," McCoy said with a smile. He held out his hand to Halman. "It's been nice meeting you, Sir. And your associates." McCoy nodded to the ladies. "But tomorrow will certainly be a busy day, for all of us."

He noticed Yandel was frowning, but Burrows was trying to hide a slight smile as she met McCoy's eyes.

"So _soon_? Captain?" Halman asked as he stood, looking at Jim with a look that clearly asked, _'Are you in charge here, or is he?'_ "I feel like we've just gotten _started_."

"Mr. Halman," Jim said with a more relaxed smile, "if there's one thing you'll learn about me, is that I take the advice of those around me directly to heart. If my Doctor, and my husband, thinks I should call it a night, I should certainly take his advice."

"Well, then I look forward to finishing this conversation with you!" Halman said enthusiastically, shaking Jim's hand. He reached down and picked up his comm. "Your Yeoman's number?"

Jim took the comm and punched in the number. He handed it back with a smile, and both he and McCoy picked up their caps.

"It has been nice to meet you," Jim repeated. "My husband and I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Looking forward to it. Goodnight."

While Jim and McCoy wove their way back to the entrance, Halman and his associates stayed behind to handle the bill. Glancing back, McCoy saw that while Halman and Yandel were huddled in conversation, Burrows was silently watching them leave, an amused smile on her face.

On a station that operated 24/7, there were plenty of people in the corridors and open areas as they left. Caps back on heads once outside the restaurant, they blended in more. There were certainly enough people around in uniform, Blues and otherwise, that they didn't draw much attention.

"Thanks for nipping that topic in the bud," Jim said quietly as they walked down to the center hub and the lifts to the docking area. "I was actually going to discuss the matter with him, and draw the conversation out."

"No problem," McCoy replied with a shrug. They chose a lift and waited. "He's good at pushing buttons. Getting the quotes he wants. Felt it was better to leave before you all got too involved in discussing it. I mean, we all know what he wants."

"You're right. We do. But if, now and forever," Jim said with a crooked smile as he glanced at McCoy, "we get messages from strangers, and questions from other reporters, asking about our spot-less dog, Spot, it's all on your head."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure we get a dog, and name him Spot," McCoy said with a smile and a shrug. "Wouldn't want to disappoint all our fans."

Jim seemed to ponder it for a moment. Then nodded his head.

"I can live with that."

"Jim? Why do you think that one lady, Burrows, gave us the _'heads up'_ on that comm trick?"

"I don't know," Jim said. "But we can't assume that it's _not_ part of a plan to get us so comfortable with her we just jabber away. Reveal something we'd rather have kept private."

"At least we've been warned that this is war. No quarter given."

"That we have," Jim admitted with a frown.

"This is going to be one long, damned week," McCoy muttered tiredly as the lift they were waiting for arrived. "Almost makes me wish something exciting would happen and distract them."

They'd just gotten to their cabin and had changed into more comfortable clothes when the wall comm chirped.

It was Rand, telling them that a John Grimm was requesting a private live-feed connection.

_She really has taken over our lives,_ McCoy thought with a sigh. _She's intercepting all of Jim's messages now. _

_At least John's given us a call back. I don't know if I hope Sam is with him or not. _

_That's going to be one really tough conversation for Jim and Sam to have, face to face **or** over a live-feed._

Jim ordered her to put it through, and to make sure the line was kept open as long as he needed it.

When John Grimm came on-line he was in a featureless room. Nothing was visible but John sitting at the screen, a grey background behind him. McCoy assumed he was calling from his super-secret computer filled basement. Which meant that the line was as secure as it could possibly get.

John looked concerned and a bit unsettled.

"Jim?"

"John, is Sam--?"

"He's upstairs. I'll switch you over in a second and leave you to it," John said with a nod. "Just wanted to thank you for the _'heads up'_. There'd been a few people snooping around the place, looking for apartments when the place is already listed as full. Figured they were some sort of investigative team, and caught on to your middle names on the ownership of the apartment."

"Sorry about that, John," Jim said with a sigh. "We didn't mean to throw any attention your way."

"That's no problem," John said with a shake of his head. "I'll just keep an eye on the place, step up the security at the front and back doors in case they try something funny. I'll stay out of the limelight for a while, but I'm not worried about anything about me catching their attention. My documentation is watertight. Now that I know what they were after, we'll just wait it out here. I'll leave you all alone so you and Sam can talk about this documentary thing, but I have to warn you, Sam's _really_ upset. They surprised him with some news about your past, and he's... well, you'll see. I just hope... hope that what we've heard isn't true."

McCoy could see the weight of that admission made Jim droop in disappointment.

Now they both knew that it was too late to talk to Sam about the molestation _before _someone else told him.

This night had just gotten a whole lot worse.

"If it's about me being molested when I was a kid, then it's true," Jim said softly. "John? Sam'll probably need your help for damage control after the call's over. _Don't_ let him blame himself for this. Not for _any _of it."

John nodded gravely at Jim. "You got it. Sam and I can talk about it afterward, before he goes home. I've made some _huge _mistakes in my time, where people I loved paid dearly for them. I think I can help talk Sam down from taking on blame that wasn't actually his in the first place. And whatever you need... for whatever reason..."

"Thanks, John. I'm fine. I had counseling at the time. I've dealt with it. I just need to talk to Sam now."

Jim glanced worriedly at McCoy as John left the chair, to get Sam.

"Jim?" McCoy asked quietly. "Do you want me to leave?"

"What? No," Jim said quickly. "_Stay_."

It didn't take Sam very long to appear. He looked upset and worried as he stood behind the chair, gripping the backrest tightly. He was agitated but trying to control it.

"Jim, we've had reporters stop by, try to get me to give them an interview," Sam said quickly. Reluctantly. "When I declined, they started throwing questions at me. About you. They said..."

Sam winced, then grit his teeth. McCoy could almost feel the anger flow across the connection.

Jim sighed. "They told you I'd been molested, when I was fourteen."

Sam looked like he was going to be sick.

Jim straightened his shoulders.

"Yes," Jim said gently. "It happened."

Sam stared at Jim then, and McCoy could see the anger flood him in the flush on his face. And the shame.

Sam leaned heavily on the back of the chair, then in one hard, vicious motion flung the chair violently away. It flew out of view, the loud banging sound of it hitting and skidding across the concrete floor echoing over the connection.

"I should **_never_** have left you there!" Sam started pacing back and forth in front of the desk. "I _should have_ packed up your stuff and taken you _with_ me."

Jim shook his head. He kept his voice gentle. "Sam, they _never_ would have let you. I'm _sure_ Frank knew that as soon as we were both out of the house, Mom would dump him. He would have pulled strings as our guardian, and gotten me back, if not you. The law took care of it. I'm _okay_."

"Then I should have _stayed_," Sam ground out. He looked everywhere but at the screen, anger in every movement. "I should have _stayed_ and _protected _you!"

"_No_, Sam. Listen. Sam?" Jim stepped closer to the screen. His tone and demeanor calm. "Sam? _Look_ at me, _Sammy_."

It took a moment, but Sam went off screen, picked up the chair angrily, and set it upright with enough force that it almost toppled over again. He gripped the back of the chair with both hands, arms stiff. His whole-body radiating fury.

Only then could he look up at the screen again.

"I should have tried _anyway_," Sam said with self-disgust. "If I had known--"

"But you _didn't _know," Jim insisted gently. "_You_ didn't,_ I_ didn't, and I don't think Frank did, either. He didn't want his meal ticket messed with, right? Sam? The _only_ person who is responsible for what Jack did is _Jack_. He did his jail time, and his counseling, and he left and never bothered me again. I got past it, Sam, with counseling of my own. _Don't _do this to yourself."

Sam, head down, took a big breath. When he did look up, his eyes looked wet.

"I am so _sorry_, Jim."

"It's _okay_, Sammy," Jim said softly. "I know you are. I probably would never have told you, honestly. I didn't want to do that to you, because I knew you'd blame yourself. I should have told you earlier, but... I guess I don't like visiting the past very often. Too much baggage. I should have been the one to tell you. I'm sorry I'm too late. But I can tell you the truth now."

Slowly Jim told Sam about the molestation. At fourteen, one morning before school, a friend of his stepfather had cornered Jim, forcibly kissed him, and grabbed his ass while grinding against him. Jim had fought back, knocking Jack out and escaping the house. Jim had been taken by a neighbor to police, who'd returned to find Jack unconscious, and Jim's stepfather asleep and unaware of what had happened. Jack had been given jail time and mandatory counseling, and then had left the area.

Their stepfather had not been implicated, or charged, and had retained custody.

Jim had also gotten counseling. It was soon after that that Jim had started stealing Frank's car at night to get away.

To any place he could be alone, to watch the stars at night.

Which had led to a couple of other arrests for car theft, after Frank had successfully locked Jim out of his. Jim had never meant to keep the cars, and would try to get them back into place by morning, but was caught twice.

Jim's councilors had testified for him during the last legal process at sixteen, and after Jim's promise to a judge not to steal cars anymore, he'd been left with a sealed juvenile record and more counseling.

_The counseling probably helped,_ McCoy decided. _A lot. But I know Jim probably didn't tell them everything. He was too used to guarding himself. Not really trusting. And like Sam once said, Jim could be a charmer when he wanted to be. He could fake being all better any time he wanted to._

Then Jim left his childhood home, his stepfather, those he grew up with, and his councilors for good at seventeen. Having graduated early, with some college credits already under his belt, he'd fended for himself. Adding, here and there, some bar fights and speeding tickets to an adult record as well as an impressive number of on-line and in-person college classes to keep himself from getting bored. Not to mention the college credits he'd tested out of, without having to actually take the classes.

All to end up at Riverside, as the bloody-faced, genius-level, repeat offender Christopher Pike had sat down with at a dirty bar table.

_Five years on his own, where he lived like a nomad. Meeting new people. Learning new jobs and leaving when they got stale. Hooking up all the time, to keep from feeling lonely._

McCoy knew Jim had told Sam parts of the story. But not all of it.

After Jim was finished telling Sam what he hadn't told him before, the silence seemed to go on for ages.

Suddenly, Sam looked beyond Jim, to McCoy. His voice sad, angry, and low.

"Len? You knew?"

"For a while now, yeah," McCoy answered carefully. "You weren't at fault, Sam. _No one_ is blaming you."

Sam looked back down and nodded sharply. "I'm _glad_ you already knew. I'm glad Jim can talk to you. I'm glad you're there to take care of him. He deserves someone who can take care of him."

_And there's more they need to discuss, before more shit hits them by surprise._

"Sam? Jim? There's the elephant in the room you two _need _to discuss," McCoy said. He gave it a few seconds, until both Sam and Jim were looking at him. "_Frank_. Unless he's passed away, or hiding somewhere, he could come out of hiding for a stack of credits or some instant fame. Especially now with the news of your mother's death out in public. Or it soon will be with various people digging for info. It'll just be your side against his when it comes to stories about you two growing up. You'll need to be prepared for that. And decide how you want to handle anything he says that isn't true. About you, _or _your mother."

Sam took a big breath and let it out. Jim sighed and swiped a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, if anything could bring him out of the woodwork," Jim said, shaking his head, "credits would do it."

"I don't have the slightest idea of where he is. What happened to him, after Mom divorced him," Sam admitted.

"Me either," Jim said. He shrugged and looked at Sam. "There's nothing we can do about Frank. He'll either turn up now, out of thin air, or he won't. I think we should hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. Not worry about it."

McCoy stood and walked closer to Jim and the screen.

"Look, guys, you were _kids_," McCoy said calmly. "Kids can be frustrating, pushy, and annoying, even when you love them. They talk back, break the rules, push the boundaries of all the safeguards their caregivers put into play. They say stupid things, they do stupid things... guys, I haven't heard anything that makes me think you've done anything that normal, intelligent, and curious kids wouldn't have done. Me included. Unless he outright lies his ass off, and you need to call him on it, I'd say let him have his say if he needs to. People will understand the truth. You were children who had lost a parent you sorely _needed_, and maybe got a little wild, now and again. Felt a whole lot lost. Who's going to be surprised at that? I think most people will cut you a lot of slack. And if they don't, then to hell with them. And Sam?"

Sam looked at McCoy.

"If I had thought for one second that you had _any_ responsibility in what happened to Jim, I'd have said it to your face and maybe even taken it out of your hide, a long time ago. Think about Peter, and how he'd be if he'd lost you and Aurelan and tried to protect and raise Robby and Winona himself. Scary thought, right? He'd fuck up and make mistakes he didn't mean to, over issues he'd not be prepared to deal with. You'd blame _him_ for all the crap that could happen to them after losing you both?"

"No." Sam blinked, surprised. "He's just a _kid_. He loves Robby. He'll love Winona."

"Yeah, that's what I'm _saying_. So were _you_. Don't make yourself into a villain if you wouldn't blame Peter for the _same thing_."

"He's right, Sammy," Jim said gently. "Not. Your. Fault. Save it for _Jack_. And a huge chunk for Frank."

_But not your Mom,_ McCoy thought, knowing better than to say it out loud. _It's still too soon. This whole deal with their past being dug up for this stupid anniversary is too soon after losing Winona. Neither of them is ready to stand back and look at her actions just yet. Thank God that her project, and the actual cause of death, has been kept super-secret._

Sam nodded, looking tired, worn out, and still angry around the edges.

Everyone was silent for a moment, taking a breath and trying to take everything in.

Jim wiped at his face and turned back to the screen. He smiled at Sam.

"We're _okay, Sam. _You and me. We get through this... annoying distraction and get our privacy back. Then we'll probably be forgotten as soon as they realize our past isn't all that interesting. Just, don't get upset by what you hear about me, and I won't about you. I'm sure we'll be telling each other stories for the rest of our lives, and we still won't be caught up with each other. And that's _okay_."

"A little mystery, to keep it interesting?" Sam asked with a weak chuckle. He tried to give Jim a bit of a smile.

"Absolutely."

"Okay. I'll try not to take any of our childhood too personally, if Frank does show up." Sam nodded. "But... I've kind of been thinking... maybe it'll feel good to talk about Dad. Hear stories from other people who knew him. I haven't heard any new stories in... _years_."

"I think that'd be great," Jim said with a smile. "Talk about him all you want, Sam. Seriously. Talk about me, even. What a snot-nosed pain in the ass I was."

Sam shook his head. "Maybe I shouldn't."

"Sam?" McCoy broke in. "Your Dad was a good man. Even if he had his faults. You have the right to tell people how much you loved him. Brag about him if you want to. And with Jim..." Bones turned to look at Jim, a teasing smile on his face, "Nobody here's going to bat an eye at Jim's history. He's a pain-in-the-ass _now._ What's changed?"

"Very true," Jim said with a smile, meeting McCoy's eyes. He turned back to Sam. "And maybe we'll be the ones who get the most out of all this. I just met someone who _spent time_ with Dad, a few months before he died. Worked with him. I can't wait to have a sit down with her and drag every one of those memories from her."

"And maybe I can get to know you better, even if it's through someone else's eyes." Sam smiled a tiny bit more. "Even if they do show those stupid mug shots of yours again."

Jim grinned. "They did catch me in my off moments, didn't they?"

"I liked the purple and green mohawk one the best," Sam said, his smile growing. "Clashed with your eyes pretty violently. Which I assume was the purpose."

"Got me attention, didn't it?" Jim laughed. "Although that night didn't end quite the way I'd planned. Hence, the mugshot."

All three were silent for a moment.

_They love each other so much,_ McCoy thought._ This has been good for them, even if it's been rough. _

_Whatever gets dished out? They can take it._

_Together._

It did make him feel a bit wistful about being an only child.

Although McCoy thought that any sibling relationship was probably a lot harder to deal with, and more complicated, than he realized even now.

There could be a lot of pain involved, as well as love.

"But, do me a favor, Sam?" Jim asked. "Tell Aurelan, John, and David the story? If it becomes public, I don't want them to hear it that way first. Maybe even... I don't know... If Peter needs to know, that's up to you guys."

"I'll tell them," Sam said quietly. "I'll talk to Aurelan. You can bet all of John's credits that if I do decide to talk about Dad again, it won't be to _that_ journalist. At least we now know it's out there."

"We'd better let you go now, Sam," Jim said with a sigh. "We've got a full day tomorrow, with this news-crew following us around. I'll let you know later how it went. Give you and Aurelan another _'head's up'_ if I need to. Thanks for messaging me back. I know it's got to be early morning there now."

"You call me, _any_ time," Sam said, deadly serious. "Don't ever hesitate."

Jim walked up to the screen, his hand near the _'close contact'_ icon.

"Love you, Sammy."

Sam's sad smile grew at the nickname.

"Love you too, Jimmy. Take care of him, Len."

"I promise," McCoy replied.

When the screen went dark, McCoy watched as Jim seemed to wilt.

"I never meant for him to hear about it that way. That was a shitty thing to do to him."

"It was," McCoy agreed. "At least he found out before it came out on some news flash."

"Would have been worlds worse," Jim said, nodding.

"Do you think someone actually broke into the police files and--?"

"Didn't have to," Jim said with a sigh. "People heard about it, back then. Small town gossip. Stuff like that gets spread around. Kind of surprised it didn't happen sooner. Or, if it did, I missed it, which is just as well."

McCoy walked over to Jim. "You know, I just realized that your Jack and my Jac should get together. I think they deserve each other."

Jim shook his head. "One name off our list for our own kids."

Jim looked exhausted. McCoy felt done in as well. It'd been too long a day for both of them.

He took Jim's head in both hands and gave him a gentle kiss.

"Time to turn in, Kid. Tomorrow's only hours away."

Jim nodded slightly, then smiled gently and gave McCoy a kiss back.

"Tomorrow is going to be a carnival ride," Jim admitted. "And not one of the good ones. Take me to bed, Old Man. Keep me warm and sane."

"_Warm_ I can do," McCoy admitted teasingly as they turned toward the 'fresher. "I don't think either one of us is actually _sane_ in any measurable way."

McCoy was glad to see a small smile of agreement on Jim's face.

_We're beat, but he's definitely too keyed up to sleep. _

_I need to wear him out. Maybe it's not too early to break out that birthday present I got myself._

_We both need a distraction. _

"Give me a minute," McCoy told Jim with a sultry smile as he stepped into the 'fresher. "Take off your shoes and socks first."

Jim suddenly looked intrigued. "Got plans?"

"Guess you'll have to play along and see," McCoy said with a wink.

McCoy turned on the shower, setting it to a hot mist, leaving the shower door open. He slipped out of his own clothes, tossing them outside the 'fresher.

Jim stayed just outside. He toed off his shoes and socks, then stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. He reached down to grab the hem of his black t-shirt.

"Leave it on," McCoy said, giving Jim a leer. "Turn around."

Jim smiled, then turned around, facing a 'fresher wall. The steam from the shower started to fill the room.

McCoy came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. He slid his hands up Jim's chest, under the soft, black, formfitting t-shirt. He pushed the fabric up, exposing Jim's stomach to the warm, humid air. Jim leaned back and moaned, giving McCoy's hands more room. Instead of pulling Jim's t-shirt over his head, McCoy slid his hands underneath and found both nipples, tweaking them. Hard.

He could feel Jim jolt, feel the sudden tenseness of Jim's cloth-covered back against his own bare chest. Could feel it in the shoulder muscles under his chin.

Jim moaned deeper, and put both arms up and over his head, reaching back to grab at McCoy's hair, thrusting out his chest for more contact.

"Trust me?" McCoy asked huskily into Jim's ear.

"_Always_," Jim said, then gasped as McCoy pinched his nipples just a fraction harder.

McCoy reached up to take Jim's hands from his hair and guide them to an empty towel rack on the wall in front of him. One that they'd used during sex before, so he knew it was solidly connected to the wall.

"Don't let go," McCoy whispered. "No matter what."

"Yeah?" Jim asked breathlessly, clearly intrigued.

"Yeah."

McCoy pulled back a bit, and with one arm still around Jim's waist, he pushed on a recessed drawer to pop it open. He reached in and took out two tiny squeeze bottles that he'd stashed there several weeks ago. With one hand he placed the bottles on the nearby counter. One was blue and the other red. He pulled his left hand back around and put a few drops of the contents of the blue bottle on his palms and rubbed the gel into his hands. The blue was the counteragent, so that McCoy wouldn't be affected by the red gel. Then he took the red bottle and carefully placed a large drop on his left forefinger, effectively emptying the container. The liquid was thick and tacky, leaving a red ball of gel. He transferred half of the tacky ball to the forefinger on his right hand.

Then reaching back around Jim's waist once more, pushing himself up against Jim's back. He found Jim's nipples once again with his other fingers. Careful not to touch him with the red gel.

Jim relaxed back onto McCoy, still gripping the towel rack. After a second of relaxation, McCoy braced himself against Jim's back and touched the gel to Jim's nipples. Both at the same time.

Jim jumped, then gasped, his whole body tightening in reaction.

"_What? _What the _hell_?" Jim gasped in surprise. Then he groaned and his grip on the rack tightened.

McCoy rubbed his now hard cock against Jim's ass as Jim twisted and moved, unable to touch himself like McCoy knew he wanted to.

And soon, he would _need_ to.

McCoy knew if Jim hadn't been hard as a rock before, he would be now.

"Nerve stimulator," McCoy said around a soft chuckle. "Needs humidity to get going. Just the smallest amount will send your nerves singing songs of glory."

"Oh...oh..." Jim was breathing heavy now, his clothed body hot and pressed flush against McCoy's nakedness.

McCoy grabbed the hem of Jim's shirt and pulled it down, cutting off contact with the humidity in the air.

"Nice..." Jim murmured, head back.

Then McCoy pulled up quickly on the t-shirt, uncovering Jim's chest and bringing back up a wave of steamy air.

Jim gasped again. "Okay... _wow_..."

McCoy pressed himself harder against Jim's body. McCoy did it a few more times, covering Jim's chest, letting him relax, then exposing him to the humidity once again. As the humidity rose, Jim's reactions to it grew. Finally, when Jim seemed to almost get used to it, McCoy had him let go of the rack long enough to pull off Jim's t-shirt. Then he made sure Jim had a good hold of it once more.

"You like that?" McCoy asked gruffly as he kissed the back of Jim's neck. "Up for more?"

"More?" Jim asked breathlessly. "I... _wow_... I don't know. Yeah... Okay."

McCoy kissed a trail down the back of Jim's neck, then pulled Jim back a bit, so that his legs were a bit further apart and his body leaned forward. He hooked his thumbs in Jim's pants and underwear and pushed both down to the floor. Squatting, he helped Jim step out of the tangle of clothing. McCoy shoved them aside. Then he turned his attention up, to Jim's ass, which was temptingly close. He couldn't resist taking a nip of first one cheek, then the other. Then, backing off a bit, he used his 'safe' fingers to pull apart Jim's cheeks. Jim's ball sack hung heavily between them. His sack was red and flushed, and Jim's balls were already pulling up against his body.

"Don't let go," McCoy warned Jim again.

Reaching carefully between Jim's legs, he cupped both balls in one hand, and with the other, made one quick flick of a forefinger down Jim's perineum.

"Holy _cow!"_ Jim gasped and jerked away from McCoy, then bucked back again, as if the gel was too much stimulation, then not enough.

Jim began to thrust then, his cock getting no friction in the steamy air. Small beads of water were starting to form on them both.

"_That's_... that's _wicked!_ _Damn_," Jim gasped. "It feels like... like a thousand_ tongues_. Like an itch... a burn... all at once."

McCoy knew a bit of what it felt like, having carefully tested it on himself first. It was like peppermint and cinnamon on the nerves. Like ice cubes and hot wax at the same time. Exciting those sensitive areas, bringing in a concentrated blood flow, making you want more contact, but not actually able to tolerate much. All while sending jolts of pleasure to the brain.

McCoy drew up close and put one foot on the inside of both of Jim's feet, so he wouldn't try to bring his legs together. McCoy grasped himself, his cock hard and aching for friction, as he watched Jim throw his head back, his hands in a death grip on the rack, and his hips thrusting, growing more and more desperate for some kind of friction as his nerves all sent waves of stimulation to his brain and cock.

"Bones! Bones... I can't... not _enough_... too _much_..."

Quickly, McCoy coated his cock with the blue gel. Then, grabbing at Jim's hips with his hands, careful of his forefingers, he slipped his cock between Jim's legs and covered Jim's back with his body. Then he moved his feet, and Jim instantly moved his legs together, trapping McCoy's erection between his thighs, angling himself so that the head of McCoy's cock brushed up against the super-stimulating gel on his perineum. McCoy's blue-gel counteracting the red line behind Jim's balls that were screaming for contact.

Jim groaned in relief at the friction, like having a horrible itch that he couldn't reach finally get scratched.

McCoy hung on to Jim, who continued to grind himself against McCoy's cock as he moaned and gasped. McCoy lost himself in the friction, in the smell and feel of the body against him.

But he couldn't let it go on too long.

"Ready to cum? Ready?"

"Yes! _Yes_... please!" Jim gasped.

McCoy pulled away from Jim, pulling his cock out from between those gorgeous thighs, and reached for the shower, turning it on full blast.

He carefully situated himself against one side of Jim's tense, vibrating body, reached around Jim's body once again. He found Jim's cock with one hand, moved the safe, blue-colored fingers up his shaft and, very carefully, swiped the last of the red gel up Jim's frenulum.

"_Shit!"_ Jim yelled in that second.

Jim's body clenched and he came, hard, gasping. His death grip on the rack the only thing keeping him standing.

McCoy, aware of how sensitive Jim would be, fisted Jim's cock, spreading the counteragent across Jim's cock as Jim pumped into his hand. Jim came twice more, gasping and trembling against him.

After the third time, McCoy pushed Jim toward the shower.

"In!" McCoy ordered, grabbing Jim's arm and pulling him away from the rack on the wall.

Jim obeyed, throwing himself into the steaming water, gasping for breath as McCoy rubbed his hands quickly under the stream of water.

Super water-soluble, a tiny amount in the air would activate the gel, but a stream of water would deactivate it and wash it harmlessly away. The trace of gel was dissolving off of Jim's nipples under the spray.

McCoy started the washing up process. With hands full of the foamy soap they used, he ran his hands over Jim's body, making sure nothing was left of either gel even as he rubbed himself against Jim, kissing him here and there.

Jim leaned back against the wet wall, looking dazed.

After a couple of minutes, blinking as if coming back to himself, Jim pushed McCoy back up against the other wall, under the showerhead and dropped to his knees.

Jim took McCoy's red, full, straining cock in his mouth and swallowed as much of it as he could. One hand grabbed the base of McCoy's cock, the other worked at McCoy's balls, just the way he loved it.

McCoy's hands grabbed Jim's head, fingers finding what purchase they could in Jim's wet hair. He zoned out, the only thing on his mind was Jim's mouth on him, sucking and nibbling as if he were starved for cock.

And eternity later, McCoy saw his own stars when he came down Jim's throat.

Then Jim just held him in his mouth, breathing hotly around McCoy's softening cock.

McCoy waited until Jim released him, then pulled out carefully. He reached down to help Jim up. Jim leaned tiredly against him, and they kissed under the spray, dancing slowly to the music of the water beating against them.

By the time they finished, the 'fresher walls outside the shower itself were covered in rivulets of water. All of the towels in the room were damp, but they made do.

Later, after they made it to bed and fell into a cuddle, Jim finally asked. "What the hell _was_ that, and how much do we have left?"

"Was saving it as a birthday present," McCoy said with a smile. "Got it from one of the doctors we took to Pattor, _before_ the convention. He discovered a side effect of a nerve stimulator he was working with. That was all of the sample he left me, I'm afraid. Wondered if he could make a side business of selling it as a sex aid for Humans. Told him I'd give it a trial run someday, _after _I made sure it was safe, and let him know. He made it out okay, so I think I owe him that report now."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jim said with an amused huff. "That's one _hell_ of a side effect. You were saving that for my birthday?"

"No, was saving it for_ my_ birthday. Been dying to use it on you. Almost made it, too."

Jim laughed. "Well, that birthday party I've got planned for you probably won't measure up to that. You may be disappointed when you finally get to it."

"No, I won't." McCoy leaned over and kissed Jim's forehead. "All I need, or want, is you."

"And that, you'll always have," Jim said quietly, a smile in his voice.

They both drifted off to sleep quickly.

McCoy was glad that he'd been able to help Jim leave this day behind on a happier note.


	4. Chapter 4

***

Chapter Four

***

Jim Kirk sat in his Captain's chair and tried not to cringe as Halman and his team hovered around him, getting video. It wasn't the worst moment of the day, but it felt the most forced. With the _Enterprise_ in a stationary orbit around Starbase 12, taking care of what resupplying and updating they could while waiting for the_ Arrowman_ to leave drydock, there was very little reason for him to be in the Captain's chair. Except for pictures.

He felt like a fool.

It had started early that morning, when he'd been woken up by Rand with his new schedule. Jim was glad for the extra time, as it allowed him and Bones to do a quick spot check and cleanup of personal items in their cabin, and for Bones to escape to the MedBay before they arrived. Then an hour before the official start of Alpha shift, Jim opened his cabin door to greet Halman, his two assistants, and Yeoman Rand.

Rand was wide awake and alert in her pristine reds, every hair in place in her woven bee-hive hairdo. She was at attention and with her large PADD locked and loaded, Jim was sure.

Halman was dressed in a nice gray suit. Burrows and Yandel were both dressed in one-piece, grey, formfitting suits with utility pockets, both with their work equipment on and ready.

The two news-crew had swarmed around their cabin, while Rand kept her attention on her PADD and an ear on him and Halman. Halman walked around the cabin, pointing out the things he found of interest, such as Bones's embroidery work, Jim's guitar, the bonsai, and the wall full of artwork by Peter. It didn't take Jim long to understand that Halman's polite interest was to keep Jim from noticing what his assistants were focusing on.

Which was pretty much everything they could get on film.

Burrows had a vid-screen visor on her head, which covered her right eye. She carried a PADD sized controller and commanded two small video drones, like the ones the _Enterprise_ sometimes used. Covered in lenses, the drones hovered and flew around their cabin, politely ignoring the opening to their bedroom area. Those drones had been like annoying mosquitoes all day. Burrows watched the various scenes with her visor screen, and Jim had no delusions that she would miss anything. If he had dropped some microscopic crumbs on his shirt during lunch, she probably had their whole journey from his sandwich to his shirt in slow motion.

The only good thing that Jim noticed was that she lingered on the pictures Peter had drawn for them, some of which had lived on their walls for several months. And had hovered over Bones's cross-stitch project that was set carefully to the side of the couch. She took her time with the bonsai tree and Jim's guitar case over in the corner.

Those bits of his life were personal, but the ones he felt proud of.

Yandel seemed to wander around, taking notes, and not really listening. As Halman's audio tech, she didn't seem very concerned with what was being asked, or any of the answers. While in their cabin, she had wandered around and _touched_ things, which then took Jim's attention away from what Halman was saying. Things like their recycler and replicator. His guitar case. The cabinet drawers in their kitchen. She'd even sat at his desk, and touched the keypad, apparently expecting his computer to be unlocked. She once acted like she was going to wander into their bedroom until Jim blocked it with his body, giving her a polite smile. Rand actually had to ask her not to mess with the settings on the bonsai's terrarium case. Yandel had just shrugged and moved on.

He'd wondered at the time if it was a way to split his attention, and make him careless with his answers.

But Halman's questions about their cabin were basic. Did he like it? Was it big enough? Was it suitable for a married man? Were they crowded? Why didn't McCoy have his own cabin? Wasn't the dining area too small for his entertaining obligations?

All easily answered, but pretty unimportant.

In less than an hour, Rand had asked Jim to sign a report on her PADD. Jim had been surprised to find it was actually a note from her.

** _Ask him a question. Anything about him or his work. _ **

When Jim did just that, he discovered that if he asked Halman a question, Halman would take up a lot of time answering it. In detail. Killing a lot of time where Halman should be asking the questions.

For the rest of the day, from his really unneeded Ready Room briefing, where he introduced his department heads, to their tour of the rest of the ship that wasn't classified, Jim had slipped in questions to Halman that took up some of the dead time. Halman apparently was a seasoned traveler, and like to brag about the places he'd stayed, as well as what he did on his trips.

And name dropping... well, Halman had name-dropping honed to an art.

Apparently, Jim and Bones's cabin wasn't nearly as lovely as his regular hotel room on Risa, which wasn't all that far away from Starbase 12, both of which Jim already knew. Jim didn't bother mentioning he'd been to Risa himself, so could certainly see where Starfleet designers might fall a bit short in comparison. He'd just let Halman ramble on.

Rand had come in very handy. She'd been able to plan out their whole day, fitting in Jim's actual duties, then keeping Halman and his crew either out of the way, or babysitting them when he was doing something in a classified area or doing real work. Jim had found his appreciation of her grow as the day progressed.

But now, at the tail end of his shift, Jim felt like a fool sitting in his chair, trying to look useful. The saving grace was that there was a skeleton shift running, so there were very few crewmen around to see him try to act busy.

The exception was Uhura, who was working on some scheduled recalibration of the ship's antenna array, and was at her station. While answering some of Halman's questions, he had seen the amused smile on her face as she ignored them and kept at her project. Knowing she was watching just made the whole thing seem even sillier.

"Captain," Halman said, waving his arms around to indicate the whole bridge. "What is it like to be the _center_, the significant, _pivotal_ point of such a high-tech area that is the Bridge? To have such power and the ultimate, cutting edge technology at your fingertips?"

Jim tried not to make a face, fidget, or take too long to form his answer. He was too aware of the cameras on him and the crew.

"I always take great comfort in the fact that Starfleet pulls out the stops when it comes to keeping its ships, and its crew, equipped with the best technology possible," Jim said solemnly. "That's why, when we've got any spare moment in a port, we're receiving and installing the newest equipment, updates, and patches, fresh from the developers. We never know when even the slightest advancement will help save lives."

"But what is it really like, to command such a crew? To know they will do your bidding. To have them fulfill your every whim?"

"Uhm..." Jim said, and tried not to sigh. The _'king on high'_ theme Halman seemed to be stuck on was getting really old. "I'm more of a Project Manager, a coordinator, if you will. My crew are well trained, and some are even specialists in their field. My job isn't so much to... ah... _rule_ over them as it is to coordinate their efforts into a specific direction. In whatever direction the job, or assignment, needs us to focus our attention."

"Ah, but aren't you the _final_ arbitrator?" Halman asked gleefully. "The_ final _word? The _ultimate_ decision-maker, in life and death situations?"

"Yes, I do have the final say in those matters," Jim agreed. "And with that comes the responsibility for making bad, or poor decisions. I take that very seriously. My crew's health and safety are _my _responsibility."

Jim's attention was caught by a sound from Uhura. She had cleared her throat loudly enough that it was clearly a signal of some kind.

When Jim swiveled around, Uhura was looking at Yandel, who had seated herself at an empty console near Uhura, and was busy pushing buttons.

"Miss Yandel?" Jim said, getting up swiftly, signally to a clearly exasperated Rand that he would take care of it. "I'm afraid that you're seated at a _working_ station. Please don't touch any of the controls."

Yandel just looked at him with little concern, threw him a sexy smile, shrugged, and got up from her seat. Jim checked the controls, to make sure nothing was turned on or off that shouldn't be.

"Captain?" Rand said, quickly coming up to him, her PADD before her, "I'm afraid it's time for your daily reports, and the end of Alpha shift is imminent. Maybe it would be a good time to end today's tour?"

Rand smiled at Halman. "Since you, the Captain, and Doctor McCoy have a reservation at the Officers Mess in a few hours, maybe it would be good to have a short break. I'm sure you and your staff have much to go over until then."

"Well," Halman began uncertainly, "we still have some time to--"

"Oh, but you'll enjoy dinner _so_ much! We have a _wonderful_ Galley staff, some of them classically trained in Terran, Vulcan, Martian, and Orion cuisine," Rand told Halman enthusiastically. "I can send you tonight's menu, and recommend some choices, if you let me know what you favor. And you can check out your cabins! If you have any needs, I can see that you're quickly accommodated. If there is anything you need for the replicator, or from Starbase 12, we can get it for you. Let me walk you to your rooms, so I can make sure they're up to your standards."

Halman looked uncertain, but finally agreed.

Jim saved his biggest sigh for after the lift closed on the three United-data crew and Rand. Uhura came up to him, a smile on her face. Jim was glad that there were few others on the Bridge so that they could talk privately.

"This assignment doesn't sound like much fun for you," Uhura said, keeping her voice low.

"It's not," Jim admitted, crossing his arms and leaning with his hip on a rail. "And these are just questions about the ship, and my role as Captain. Once Halman gets past all the basics, he'll want to start in on the really personal questions. There's only so much interference Rand can run."

"Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad, for the universe to get to know you better," Uhura said, giving Jim a speculative look. "Spock, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, and I have gotten to know you pretty well. You're not all that different from anyone else." She gave him a smile. "You're _tolerable_ to be around."

"Why, thank you," Jim said with a smile of his own. "Always good to know. But... I don't know. So much of my early life was in the public domain. Then later, when I _did_ do something newsworthy, stuff like getting arrested or some other kind of trouble, it was out in the news-feeds in an instant. _'Look at how low the 'Kelvin Kid' has fallen!_' Then all this crap coming out about a private life I'm not living. People I'm not really dating. Things I haven't really done. When it is something good, it feels like I'm getting way too much credit for what everyone around me does. Too much attention, and all of the wrong kind."

"_You_ give us credit, as does Starfleet," Uhura said, turning to lean on the same rail, next to him. "We _all _know that."

"And it's not just that. People will see things about me, and pretend that means that they _know_ me," Jim said with a grimace. "Bones, and Sam's family, have been dragged into this. Like Bones's proposal. Somehow, they're going to find out there are vids of it. How is he, how am I, going to feel to know that strangers will see that? There are private things between him and me, and another level of privacy between the seven of us. Then another level when it includes the crew of my ship. Past that... I guess it bothers me to share those parts with strangers."

"I can pass the word that any copies floating around need to be... _lost_ for a while," Uhura offered.

"No, don't bother," Jim said with a sigh. "Either we'll give them a copy, or not. I'm sure Starfleet will if we don't. You know they've had a ton of data-dumps since then, and they've got a record of it. They save everything. Stuff like that seems to get out, even with the best security."

Just then, Lieutenant Bridgeton arrived for shift-change. He would have the con for the next shift. Striker, Uhura's replacement, arrived soon after.

It only took them a few moments to fill in their replacements. When Alpha was officially over, and Beta on-line, Jim joined Uhura at the lift.

"Jim?" Uhura asked as the lift doors slid shut.

Jim looked at her.

"You're a _nice_ guy," Uhura said sincerely. "There's nothing wrong with letting the universe at large know that."

"Thanks, Nyota," Jim said sincerely.

***

McCoy took a sip of his drink, waiting for their first, personal interview to begin. Dinner with Halman had been a pain, with the man arriving alone, and talking about himself during the whole meal. While it had kept Halman's attention off of them, it had not been a relaxing experience. Halman spoke with his hands, and at a small table that had quickly become annoying. As had the man's constant bragging.

Now, after dinner, Halman's two-man crew had rejoined them, and McCoy felt really, truly trapped. Jim and McCoy had been instructed to sit together, opposite of Halman, in one of the _Enterprise_'s forward lounge areas, now closed off to the rest of the crew. A location picked by Halman himself.

Rand, thankfully, stood at the ready, out of the way of the cameras hovering around with their all-seeing lenses. If they needed an excuse to break up the interview, somehow, she'd find one for them.

She was really, _really_ good at her job.

McCoy had doubts that Halman was. He certainly had never heard of him before. Maybe they just got the luck of the draw, and Halman was the closest journalist United-Data had in the area.

_I guess he had to corral us some time._

_But damned if I don't want to shoot those blasted cameras out of the air. _

_Those things are worse than bees in a hive._

"So, Captain, Doctor," Halman began with a smile, "I'll want to do separate interviews with you, of course, but why not start with the two of you, and this epic love story?"

Jim took a sip of his drink, then set it down. "What, exactly, is the question?"

"How did you get together?" Halman asked. "Was it love at first sight? Did you first split up because Doctor McCoy's wife found out? Did--"

"What?" Jim and McCoy exclaimed in shock at the same time.

"What do you mean by--?" Jim started.

"_What _split up?" McCoy interrupted.

Jim reached over and put his hand on McCoy's wrist gently, their pre-arranged signal to let Jim handle the discussion.

McCoy slammed his mouth shut.

_Damn it!_ McCoy thought. _Did Jacquelyn lie about us again?_

"Well, you knew each other _well_ before you entered the Academy, isn't that true?" Halman asked with a sly smile.

"No," Jim said with a disbelieving laugh. "We actually first met on the recruit shuttle, when it left Riverside. I was a last-minute addition. Bones had already signed his papers, weeks before we met on the shuttle."

"So, you're saying you hadn't met, a few months before, while in Indianapolis?"

Surprised, McCoy looked over at Jim. "Were you ever in Indianapolis?"

"Yeah, for a while," Jim said, looking at McCoy with confusion. "I had a job there at a mid-point transport station for about six months. You know, the ones that transport market goods around the Earth, and the cargo stations in orbit. I left it to go to Riverside, when I heard my Mom was selling the old house. Why, were_ you_ there?"

"Yeah, I had a quick stint there, in a Doctor exchange, a few months before the divorce." McCoy raised his eyebrow at Jim. "Was it about the same time?"

"I guess so," Jim turned to look at Halman, who seemed delighted at the exchange. "Is that what you've found? And you think we were a couple back then?"

"Our research, so far, shows you were both in Indianapolis at the same time, for about four weeks," Halman said with a smirk. "You would like us, the public, to believe that you _hadn't _run across each other while there?"

"Did you ever hit the ER?" McCoy asked Jim.

"No. Not that one."

"Well, then, why would you think we'd have run across each other?" McCoy asked Halman. "Indianapolis is a_ big_ city! Probably well over a coupl'a _million_ people. Heck, I hardly had time to see much of it before I was _back _in Georgia."

"So, you _deny _that for the four _weeks _you were _both_ in Indianapolis that you ever hooked up?" Halman asked, clearly skeptical.

"We did _not_ know each other back then," Jim said with exasperation. "Why would we _lie _about that?"

"Because I was _still_ married," McCoy said with a frown at Jim. He turned to glare at Halman. "Jim and I _met_ at the Riverside Space Yards, on the day the shuttle left carrying recruits to the Academy. I didn't meet Jim until _that _morning. I got on in Georgia, the shuttle's second or third stop the day before, and didn't even go to the Riverside Bar that night it stayed over. I was in a hotel room, trying to get some sleep because I had a three-day hangover. You can ask anyone who_ was_ there, because I _wasn't_."

"Really, gentlemen," Halman said with an exaggerated sigh. "It would be _easy enough_ to check--"

Startling them all, the wall comm chirped loudly.

"Captain to the Bridge."

McCoy watched as Jim strode over quickly.

_That's Uhura's shift replacement. They sound stressed._

McCoy rose to follow.

Jim spoke close into the comm, in a way that shielded what he was saying. McCoy kept a wary eye on the camera drones, but Burrows was holding them back and out of earshot. Just as Jim turned and started toward the lift, Yellow Alert blared all through the ship. The claxon stopped after a few seconds, but the yellow alert lights still flickered.

Jim was already in the corridor by the time the claxon stopped, the yellow alert lights flickering on a bright strip down the corridor walls. McCoy, close behind, noticed that the news-crew and Rand were following.

"Interview_ over_, Mr. Halman," Jim said as he strode quickly to the nearest lift. "You can stay here and wait until--"

"We have clearance to attend!" Halman objected anxiously.

Jim threw a glance at Rand as the door opened to an empty lift, Jim's rank giving him priority over any of the other crew needing its services.

McCoy saw Rand nod at Jim.

_So they do have that privilege. They'd better not misuse it, or Jim will make sure that they won't have a second chance to film anything on the Bridge._

The five of them crowded onto the lift, Jim looking concerned.

"We have a report from Starbase 12's Science Station of an unidentified anomaly out by one of the main trade routes, three hours away by warp," Jim told them as the lift took them upward.

_Three hours by warp? That's pretty dang close to the Starbase._

"Romulans? Klingons?" Halman asked, almost hopefully.

"_Unidentified_, Mr. Halman. Stay _out of the way_ on the Bridge, or I'll have Security remove you," Jim said shortly. He frowned as he glanced at Burrows. "That includes the drones."

Burrows gave him a slight nod. Yandel didn't seem to be paying any attention to what Jim was saying, but was smiling at him and standing way too close. Even for a lift. Jim hit the comm button in the lift.

"Kirk to Scott."

"Here, Captain."

"We're on our way to investigate an anomaly. Suspend all shuttle trips to the Starbase, secure the Docking Bay. We're leaving_ now_, so no recall of those off ship. We'll go with who we have."

"Aye, Sir."

The Bridge was on full alert when they arrived. McCoy was not surprised to see Spock already there. Jim headed for his chair.

"Spock. Report."

"I am just now going over the information from Starbase 12's Science and Security teams," Spock said, eyes on his datascreen. "I am coordinating with them now. We are receiving more information from those at warp on the Orion-Vulcan trade route."

"Any of them distress calls?"

"None so far."

McCoy hadn't navigated anything since the Academy, but he knew that the Orion-Vulcan lane was a major thoroughfare from the Orion Union and through the center of Federation space. It covered the majority of the larger systems, where Vulcan used to be. While navigation through space could be done randomly, or at will, traders, haulers, and passenger ships liked to stay on particular paths. The ones that had the shortest routes, both warp and impulse, strategic stops and resupply locations, also tended to be safer from pirates. Traveling in numbers had its advantages, and some routes had grown to be more popular than others. The Orion-Vulcan route was heavily traveled, even now with Vulcan gone.

McCoy knew that Jim suspected that part of the reason was its closeness, at this section, to the juncture of the four major territories. If you're going by a border or neutral zone, it could be handy to take small detours now and again to pick up or deliver questionable items. He believed that such deals gone wrong were the explanation for a lot of ships that started somewhere on the route and never made their scheduled stop.

Jim turned toward the Communication station. "Trimbul?"

The Beta-shift Communication's Officer worked his board. "I'm recording the frequencies now, Captain. At least a dozen ships are hailing us."

"Call Uhura in to help," Jim ordered, then turned to Rhee, who was in Sulu's chair. "Rhee, get us headed in the right direction and plan a route straight to the center of the anomaly. I want to be ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Aye, Captain."

Uhura, still in civilian dress, her hair down, entered the Bridge quickly and headed for her station.

McCoy figured she must have been making her way up as soon as the Yellow Alert was put into place.

"Trimbul, put out a group alert to all off-duty that we're leaving and to report into Starbase 12. Uhura--"

"Captain," Uhura announced, barely having had time to sit down. "Incoming from Commodore Striker, Captain's Neeler and Sanin."

"Ready room," Jim ordered, leaving his chair. "Bones, come with me. Spock, keep your eye on the anomaly and gather all the data you can, from all sources."

"Aye, Captain."

McCoy moved to follow and saw that Halman was ready to do the same.

Rand stepped in Halman's way with a smile and a determined look on her face.

McCoy tried not to gloat as he followed Jim.

Inside the Ready Room, Jim strode to his computer at the head of the main table and punched up a split hologram. In the center was Commander Stocker, then on either side was Captain's Neeler and Sanin, of the _Arrowman _and the _Merrimac_. McCoy had looked up both after Jim told him of their meeting. Both Neeler and Sanin had _very_ impressive records.

McCoy knew a Bolian expressed emotion in ways similar to a Human and were known to be jolly and very social. All McCoy could see on Sanin's face was the species equivalent of worry and frustration.

_Her ship is in pieces. Days away from leaving. _

_That'd be enough to put any good Captain on edge when there's something strange going on nearby._

The Captain of the _Arrowman_, Darla Neeler, was harder to read. McCoy thought she was a striking woman. Not conventionally pretty, and not beautiful. But there was something about the experience of Command that she carried with her that spoke of a masterful presence even over a vid connection.

_Jim said she's refused promotion several times and has gotten years of subtle backlash over it. _

_Clearly, someone who knows what she wants, what she's good at, and where she belongs._

_Good to know Jim's got someone like her on his side._

Commodore Stocker was frowning with concern.

McCoy stood back out of range to watch.

"Captain Kirk," Stocker said, "less than fifteen minutes ago, we started getting unknown readings approximately point-zero-five parsecs from the Starbase, in sector 197.72.44.34. This has been confirmed by several civilian ships traveling the Orion-Vulcan trade route. The readings are growing stronger, and our best guess at this point is that we're seeing the birth of a wormhole."

"A wormhole?" Jim asked in surprise. "A natural one?"

"Unknown," Stocker said. "As of now, I'm taking command of all Starfleet personnel in this area, which includes you, Captain. I need the _Enterprise_ at that location as soon as you can get there. We need eyes on this."

"Yes, Sir."

While the rest talked, Jim commed Spock and ordered him to get the _Enterprise _on its way.

_Sulu's probably going to have to sit this one out,_ McCoy thought. _I think he's still on base with Ben and Demora. _

_Rhee's good, but Sulu would have been better._

"Could this be an invasion force?" Sanin asked. "A wormhole could, theoretically, be used for travel from one area to another."

"According to my records," Neeler added, "We know of no species that has the capability to produce a wormhole. Let alone one large and stable enough to travel."

"Doesn't have to be someone we _know_," Sanin countered.

"No, it doesn't," Stocker said grimly. "We are relaying all information to Starfleet and the Federation as we get it. But our database was just up-dated as per schedule, so I don't expect them to have more information than we do."

Jim's comm beeped. Jim looked to see who it was, then opened the channel so the rest could hear. "Spock, report."

"Captain, we are now getting messages from various vessels in that area of the trade route, saying that they have been forced out of warp. Their engines have all shut down and they are dead in space."

"Confirmed," Stocker said as he looked at something off-screen. Stocker looked at Jim. "Captain Kirk, I see you've already left station orbit. Good, I need you there _yesterday_."

"Working on that, Commodore," Jim said. "We'll have any left-behind crew contact your office, in case you can use them."

"I'll pass that along," Stocker said. "Captain Neeler, what is the status of the _Arrowman?"_

Neeler shook her head. "Our warp engines are still off-line. Two hours until restart and warp use."

"That can't be moved forward?" Stocker asked.

"We could," Neeler said wryly. "If we skip all our reboot-safety checks."

"Understood," Stocker said grimly. "I would _prefer_ you didn't explode inside my Starbase, Captain. Two hours at best, then."

"Yes, Sir."

"Captain Sanin?"

"We're dead in the water," Sanin said, obviously unhappy about it. "We've got too many computer and warp systems in pieces and in various stages of updating. Eight days was our best estimate this morning. That hasn't changed."

"Understood, Captain."

Suddenly Stocker's face disappeared, and a star map came up in his place. On it were several bright lines that looked like the trade routes McCoy knew of. On one line was a blinking red light.

"As you can see, this is a large, empty area," Stocker continued. "I've already ordered all traffic planning to come through that sector to quit warp and sit where they are until further notice. There's no use letting more ships become entangled in whatever this incident is."

Stocker frowned for a moment, studying something off-screen. Then nodded as if to himself.

"Captain Kirk," Stocker said, looking back up to Jim. "I'll be putting up the Starbase's shields as soon as we clear area around us of Federation and civilian craft. Everyone on their way in will be given sanctuary within our docking module if they wish. Otherwise, we're putting out the word to avoid this area entirely. The _Arrowman_ will be two hours behind you. I'm doubling the workforce on the _Merrimac_, in case we can get her out of drydock sooner. But she may have to sit this one out. The USS _Buran, Concord, _and _Wolcott_ are nearly six days away.

Various small dots appeared on the holo-map as he spoke.

Stocker shook his head. "Our armadas on the Federation boundaries are scattered, on patrols. None are closer than thirteen days away, at best speed. So, you three are this starbase's first line of defense."

"Yes, Sir," Jim responded, along with Neeler and Sanin.

"This _could_ be a massive overreaction on my part," Stocker said wryly. "But let's pretend for the moment that it's _not_. Keep us live-streamed with everything you see and hear, Kirk. Neeler and Sanin, you both keep me, or my people apprised of your status at all times."

"Understood, Sir," Jim responded.

"Neeler and Sanin followed suit.

"Stocker out."

Stocker's share of the holoscreen winked out.

Captain Sanin of the _Merrimac_ left as well. But the _Arrowman_'s Captain stayed on.

"Taking up the limelight once again, I see," Captain Neeler said with a wry smile. "Don't have too much fun before _I _get there, youngster. I need to show you how an expert does things."

"Yes, Sir. I'll try not to," Jim said with a slight smile and a nod. "See you there."

Jim switched off the comm and turned in his chair to McCoy.

"Bones? MedBay ready?"

"We're fully functional. A few staff were on the station. But no one we needed to stay for if they didn't make it back." McCoy shook his head. "Starfleet Brass must have a lot of confidence in him if they've put Stocker in charge of all the Federation ships in this area."

"He's the nearest Flag Officer, he's a strategic tactician, _and _it could take Starfleet _days _to co-ordinate all the Starships around if they didn't put someone local in charge. Better him than some Admirals I know."

Jim rose from his chair.

"Report to MedBay," Jim ordered, giving McCoy a wry glance as he headed toward the Bridge. "Be prepared for the worst part."

"Which part is that?" McCoy asked.

"The one where I send Halman to you for _babysitting_," Jim said over his shoulder just before the door to the Bridge opened. "Just as soon as I can think of a good excuse to do so."

Then Jim was gone, and McCoy headed for the corridor exit and the lifts.

"Well, great," McCoy muttered to himself. "I _knew_ I should've child-proofed the MedBay. Now I'm going to have to break out my new set of crayons and coloring books."


	5. Chapter 5

***

Chapter Five

***

Jim sat tensely in the Captain's chair, eyes on the split screen in front of him. Only minutes away from the new wormhole, and their new visitor, everyone was on their toes, looking for every bit of information they could get before arrival.

_Stocker was right to be proactive,_ Jim thought. _We may not have known of any entity who could produce a wormhole big enough or stable enough to travel through, but we're about to meet one now._

_Looks like I'm going to get another First Contact under my belt. _

_Let's hope this one goes better than some of the others have._

The alien vessel appeared soon after they'd left Starbase 12's orbit. There had been a few ships knocked out of warp along the trade route that had been able to send data to the Starbase, which added valuable information to the Starbase's own scanners. They now had detailed information on the speed of the wormhole's growth, and the appearance of the alien vessel. But until the _Enterprise_ was near enough that their own scanners could be used, there was a lot they didn't know.

And, no matter what happened, the information they could send back to Starbase 12, and Starfleet, could jump-start new research in wormhole science. Existing only in theory for centuries, only a few spaceships had actually encountered one. Those had been micro-wormholes, barely bigger than a grain of rice and flickering in and out of existence in seconds. Finding traces of it happening was extraordinary. The few ships that had actually 'seen' one close enough to have gotten live readings had had the luck of a billion-credit lottery winner.

_Creating_ a wormhole at all, let alone one this size, was beyond any science Starfleet or the Federation had. Beyond anything anyone had even been _rumored_ to have. To have one that was large enough for an object to pass through, and seemed to be stable, meant that whoever had that technology would be a force to deal with if their intentions were hostile.

On the viewscreen, the computer's recreation of the wormhole looked very much like the event horizon of a black hole, with a wash of dark blues and greens framing a black, pulsing, oval center. Not only was the question of how the wormhole was formed and what kept it open one of Spock's specific projects, but trying to figure out where it originated from was a top priority. Where was the other end? How much space travel were they skipping by traveling in this way? Were they even from the same galaxy?

As well as keeping Scotty busy, with trying to figure out what had thrown several ships in the area roughly out of warp. And why couldn't they restart their warp engines?

At least they thought they had an idea of how far away the warp disruption went. They could keep the _Enterprise_ far enough away, but could they shield against it if they needed to get closer?

And everyone, including the annoying journalist and his crew, were wondering just who had arrived in their space.

_Someone with **that** kind of tech would be a great addition to the Federation. Even in a 'friends but not members' capacity. _

_If we even had anything they'd want in trade. If they're future foes, we could be in trouble with someone that advanced._

_We **have** had ships go missing in this area. _

_I'll have to be careful to keep the 'Welcome' mat out._

_And keep a close eye on their response._

"Any signals at all?" Jim asked Uhura.

"None, Captain." She frowned, touching her earpiece. "No response to our standard First Contact signals, on any channel."

They'd been broadcasting their First Contact greeting across all frequencies except the emergency ones since they'd left the Starbase. So far, not a peep in return.

"Spock?"

"Our scanners show a higher level of quantum fluctuation than before, Captain," Spock said, bent over his Science Station's data screen. "As well as the high count of neutrinos, ionized hydrogen, and theta-band radiation localized to this area. The new vessel in question has resisted all of our scans so far. And while it has left the wormhole itself, there seems to be a strange subspace ion link between the wormhole and the vessel."

"Theories?"

Spock stood, his attention now drawn to the main viewscreen. He touched a few buttons on his console, and Jim watched as more data scrolled across the main display. The colors used to denote shifts in the wormhole's readings more than doubled with the new information.

_It's putting out more energy. _

_In response to our signals? Our presence?_

"Since the wormhole has existed for an unprecedented amount of time, and is stable, it could be that that is part of the process the vessel uses to keep it that way."

"Has it gotten thicker?" McCoy asked, coming on to the Bridge. He'd been making the rounds of the ship, as restless as the rest of them. "It looks like a ring now, instead of just a two-dimensional hole."

"It has changed since first detected," Spock said, obviously fascinated. "There is a considerable amount of energy coming from it. The slight fluctuations are, I believe, due to it being an artificial phenomenon rather than a natural one."

"Artificial?" McCoy asked in awe. "I thought those things only came about because of warp drive malfunctions."

"There are naturally occurring wormholes, Bones," Jim said. "Some ships in the Federation have come across them by chance, before they closed. None of them were open for long, or were very big, let alone stable enough to use."

"You mean, like when we fell into that--"

"_Bones_," Jim warned, shooting McCoy a look.

_Falling into that rift in Tholian space, when we tried to save the Defiant, is one of the most classified things we've done._

_Starfleet can erase the news-crew's recordings, but they can't delete what they hear._

_I should have left them at the Starbase, orders or no orders._

Bones's mouth snapped shut, and he looked a bit sheepish.

Jim got up, walking closer to the viewscreen, his eyes on the round, white object in the second panel. While the wormhole was interesting, it was the alien vessel that most of the _Enterprise _was concentrating on.

_If this is even a ship. Could be a drone, a buoy, or a message in a bottle. _

_And those ships getting knocked out of warp was just an unintentional by-product of the alien propulsion system._

_If we could figure out what that is and how it works._

The alien vessel was a white, perfectly round globe, about an eighth the size of the _Enterprise_. No one knew if the material of the vessel was white, or that was what they saw through its shields. Because there must be some kind of shielding in place to keep the _Enterprise'_s scanners from gathering any information on it at all.

"Spock? Still nothing on the vessel? Is it solid? Hollow?"

"Readings are sparse," Spock said with a frown. "Our scanners do not seem to be able to penetrate the material, nor even tell if there is a shield in place. It is not throwing off any measurable radiation, heat or otherwise. Just the subspace connection with the wormhole."

"Captain? We're getting a message from Starbase 12," Uhura announced. "Commodore Stocker requesting a link."

"Ready Room," Jim ordered, already headed that way.

When Halman glanced at him, silently asking to attend, Jim shook his head.

Jim entered the ready room and settled in quickly.

Stocker soon appeared on the screen. He looked serious, but not grim.

"Captain," Stocker said. "As you know, the _Arrowman_ left drydock an hour ago, as well as several other Federation ships. Although none as well armed or as large as a starship. I'm afraid it's still going to be just you for the next two hours. And then just the two of you for the next few days."

"Yes, Sir," Jim said with a nod. "We'll be coming up on the alien vessel soon. Our First Contact messages have gotten no response on any of the frequencies."

"Keep trying to make friendly contact," Stocker said. "You understand how this kind of technology could be a huge asset."

"Wormhole travel would change the equation for us locally," Jim admitted grimly. "Even in warp, we can track ships. Keep an eye on the movements of friend and foe alike. But wormhole travel... that's like us beaming into someplace that has no shields, no transport blocker, and maybe even no knowledge of transporters. We can bypass any normal defenses and be right on top of them before they even realized we were there. If this new contact can just wormhole into our territories, even into orbit around any planet they want..."

"They may not even have warp capabilities themselves, or understand the science," Stocker said. "Not if their wormhole technology is antithetical to warp travel. They could use wormholes as we do our own warp drives."

"Which may be why they knocked our ships out of warp," Jim said. "They came in too close to the travel route. An accident of circumstance, and not a sign of aggression."

"Agreed. Until we find out otherwise, Captain, it's imperative you treat this as a First Contact situation for as long as possible. I doubt I have to tell you that we don't need a war with someone who can use wormholes at will." Stocker nodded at him. "Yet, at the same time, they did appear unannounced in our territory. We can't be seen as unprepared or as easy pickings. A very delicate balance, I'd say. Which is why I'm going to order Captain Neeler to take charge of the situation when she arrives."

"Sir?" Jim felt a bit confused.

_Is he having second thoughts about my abilities?_

"Captain, if you are able to make contact with this new species, which I certainly hope you will, I want you to be able to keep any good grace you may earn by not having to deliver any ultimatums from the Federation," Stocker said. "If you become the official ambassador of this First Contact, I want you to stay on the sideline if we should have to ask them to leave the vicinity of the trade route. Or to leave Federation space altogether. I believe the ancient saying is _'nice officer, bad officer'_?"

"Ah... _'good cop, bad cop'_ is the correct phrasing, I believe," Jim said with a small smile.

_He could be right about it being the best approach. I have a lot on my plate as it is. _

_If I can make First Contact, that'll keep me from having to be the bad guy in an awkward situation._

_And Neeler has the experience to back her up._

Stocker's smile was small, but it was there. "Yes, that sounds right. I will assume you will have no trouble following her orders. She does have a_ bit_ more experience in the field than you do."

"No, Sir," Jim said with an agreeable nod. "No problem at all."

"Good. You should be in range soon. Good luck, Captain."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Stocker out."

While he usually worked on his own, Jim found he didn't resent the _Arrowman_ taking point on arrival.

_I guess I probably don't have much of a reputation as a team player, since the Enterprise hasn't actually had to act as part of a group very often._

_Neeler certainly has earned the respect of those around her several times over. Maybe this'll change some minds about my abilities to fit in. _

_Even if it's only Captain Sanin's mind._

As soon as Jim stepped out onto the Bridge again, Halman came up to Jim, looking angry and frustrated.

"Captain," Halman said, his tone polite, but barely so. "This _isn't_ what was agreed on by both Starfleet _and _United-Data. We were to have _full_ access, to be able to film at _all _times, to--"

"Mr. Halman," Jim said, forcing on a polite smile. He had no illusions that this conversation wasn't being recorded by the team. "I have seen the agreement, and while I am bound by them, and my orders _certainly do_ bind me to them, they are a bit vague in certain areas. Since the ship was to be in drydock, or in orbit around the starbase for ten days, there was going to be very little of the ship's operation that you would see. Being called back into service is actually a bonus for you. But..."

Jim held up a warning finger. "I will _not_ allow you to interfere with, or distract, my Bridge crew. For the mission's success, my crew's safety, and your safety, I will confine you to your guest cabins or even the MedBay at _any_ time."

Halman frowned. "But I was also to have access to_ you_ and _your husband_, and we've barely even begun an interview--"

"Couldn't be helped," Jim said with a shrug. "I'm busy. My husband is busy. You may be witness to a huge breakthrough in science for the Federation, Mr. Halman. If you don't behave yourself, and stay out of my way, you'll miss out on that as well."

Jim turned to look at Rand, who was frowning at Halman. Jim suspected they'd already had words over this.

"Yeoman, if Mr. Halman and his crew try to talk to me without an invitation to do so, on the Bridge, please call security and have them confined to their rooms. If they try to interfere with the operation of this ship, do the same. Then see to making them comfortable."

"_Aye_, Captain," Rand said sharply. She looked pleased as she moved to step between Halman and Jim.

Jim lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned a bit toward Halman.

"Consider her your boss, Sir. I wouldn't piss her off. I will back up any decision she makes that keeps you out of my hair until this assignment is over."

Without waiting for a reaction, Jim turned to walk to his chair, where Bones was waiting. Bones had obviously seen the exchange, and probably had a good idea what both sides had said.

_Hopefully, that'll take care of that. _

_I've got too many other things ready to break loose now._

_If they end up stuck in their quarters for the duration, I'm not going to lose any sleep over it._

Jim sat back in his chair, checking the viewscreen. Less than an hour away now, they'd soon be in full sensor range. Jim could hear the excited buzz of the crew around him, all making sure they were ready to go when the time came.

"Final warning?" Bones asked quietly.

"Final warning," Jim agreed. "Rand's problem now. Should have left them at the station."

"Rand said it wasn't your call."

"Should have done it anyway," Jim said, turning his chair to face him. "Bones? Do you think--"

Jim was suddenly blinded.

A bright orange flash burned his eyes, then was gone in an instant, leaving a large, dark spot on Jim's retinas. All while he'd been turned away from the viewscreen.

Around him, he could hear gasps of pain.

"Red Alert!" Jim ordered while trying to rub away the dark spots. He only had his peripheral view. "All stations at ready! Chekov, keep an eye on them but don't respond unless ordered. Spock, was that an attack?"

As Jim's vision cleared, he could see most of the crew around him rub at their eyes. The few species that saw in a different spectrum of light were helping those who were still blinking frantically. Rand was herding a protesting Halman and his team out into the corridor, probably to get them to sickbay. Spock was shaking his head, but then seemed to overcome it as he turned back to his screen.

Bones, rubbing at his own eyes with one hand while using a medscanner with the other, started making the rounds of the Bridge.

"I believe we have been scanned," Spock announced. "The beam does not correspond to any technology we currently use or understand. Stations are reporting no damage."

"What did they learn?" Jim asked Spock.

"Unknown," Spock said with a frown. "There was an attempt to connect with our computer system. It was rejected by our security protocols and an inherent incompatibility between the systems. But that does not mean they didn't learn quite a lot about us."

"Hostile, curious, or accidental?"

"I can not ascribe a motive behind the scan without further information," Spock said.

"Let me know when you can," Jim ordered. "I don't want to get into a shooting match over a technological incompatibility."

Jim turned back to Navigation. "Rhee, you have the estimated safe distance from the craft's effect on warp?"

"Yes, Sir," Rhee answered.

"Make sure and keep the _Enterprise_ _outside _of that range," Jim said. "If it moves toward us, you keep us out of its reach. But if it retreats, don't follow without orders. We can't afford to lose warp, but we don't want to spook them, either."

"Aye, Sir. We'll be within stopping distance in just less than four minutes."

"The object is _expanding_," Chekov announced suddenly.

Spock turned back to his station visor.

"Rhee! Keep us back!" Jim ordered.

Jim returned his attention to the viewscreen and watched as the alien vessel started to change shape. The round shape disappeared, and it morphed into a pyramid. An Octagon form soon followed. Within a minute, Jim found they were looking at a ball, with pentagon-shaped panels, like a soccer ball. And it expanded its size as well as shape.

"How much bigger is it getting?" Bones asked worriedly as he walked back to Jim's chair.

"I guess we'll find out," Jim said.

Jim tried not to let his worry show. He listened as everyone worked their stations, and talked in low voices, trying to make sure nothing about this situation was missed. Jim watched the data-feed readings on the bottom of the viewscreen. Once the vessel had settled in soccer-ball form, it didn't seem to be getting bigger, but that was the _Enterprise_'s computers compensating to keep it in view. The data that flowed underneath it told a different story, as it grew to almost half the size of the _Enterprise_ over the course of a few minutes.

Then, it seemed to stop.

Spock rose from his visor.

"Captain, the expansion of the object has ceased," Spock said. "Its diameter has doubled in size."

"Uhura?"

"No new signals, Captain."

"Chekov, any --?"

"There is movement, Keptain!" Chekov said, his hands dancing over his control panel once again.

The viewscreen focused on one of the pentagons, one directly in front and from their point of view, dead center of the ship. Slowly, like a door on a hinge, it separated from the main vessel and dropped down to create a platform. Behind the panel that had opened up, was another wall, but without the brightness of the ones outside. Set in it was a small, door-shaped indentation.

A bright band of white light spread out across the craft, visually dividing it in half. One line on either side of the platform.

"Uhura, make sure to keep an eye on that new light source as well as the regular frequencies. They may communicate visually," Jim ordered.

"Yes, Sir," Uhura said. "Sir, we're getting more frantic calls from the disabled ships. They want to know--"

"Tell them we see it, Lieutenant, and we're following up. Are they in any new distress?"

"None reported."

"Good. Chekov? Work with Uhura. Contact those ships and see if they have been scanned as well. They may not have recognized it for what it was at the time."

"Aye, Sir."

Jim stood and walked to Spock's station. Bones followed.

"Spock? Is that a dock?"

Spock, tilting his head toward Jim while taking in the readings, turned and looked at Jim with a raised eyebrow.

"It would seem to be a docking platform," Spock agreed. "One that corresponds to the docking port on our shuttles. In fact, the dimensions are an exact match."

"So, they may not have gotten into our computers," Bones said softly, "but they were able to measure and match our equipment specs on shuttles we store _inside_? And they could match it in just a few minutes? That's scary. What else do they know about us just from that one pass?"

"Captain!" Uhura called. "We're receiving a broadcast from the alien vessel. This time, they're _repeating _our own First Contact messages back to us, across all frequencies."

"They got the message," Jim said, walking up to her station. "And have the technology to return it. But nothing added of their own?"

"Not yet... wait." Uhura tapped at her board. "The broadcast has stopped."

"Captain," Spock said. "They are now showing a new display of lights."

Jim turned back to the screen, and as he watched, three large rings of lit areas circled the dock, then rolled toward it. The dock was now dead center of the light show.

"Bullseye," McCoy said, eyes glued to the screen.

"Or, rather, landing lights," Jim murmured. "They want us to come over for a visit."

"I concur, Captain," Spock said, coming over to stand with them. "That would seem to be the most likely translation of the lights as well as the presentation of a landing platform and a dock."

"We're not going to send anyone over, are we?" Bones asked worriedly.

"Not at first," Jim admitted. "We have the RGSG's team on standby, with the spider drones."

"The Remote Group Survey Gear?" Bones asked. "Like we used on the Goliath?"

"There have been quite a few upgrades and re-designs since then," Spock informed them. "The drones can be controlled by two crewmen each, if we are within range. If not, they can operate it from a shuttle from a much longer distance."

"And those in the security branches have been trained in their use," Jim added. "We can put a drone and a repeater on a shuttle, in case we have forcefield problems like we did with the Goliath."

"Also, with the boost in power," Spock added, "we should be able to see what the drone sees, as well as have a more complete scanner stream."

"The gaming system, on steroids," Bones said, still looking concerned. "But won't a mechanical spider throw them off? If they're inviting us over for a visit, and that scan was strong enough to record the specs of our equipment, won't they know that that thing really isn't us?"

"They may not have any way to know which systems on the _Enterprise_ are the intelligent ones, Doctor," Spock said. "They _could_ take it that the crew are some sort of parasite, or part of the ship's biodome. They may consider the artificial constructs as the true intelligence."

"Spock, tell Scotty to get that drone and shuttle ready, as soon as possible. Makes sure its programming is up-to-date and the RGSG team ready."

The ten minutes were tense ones, with the shuttle and the Remote team being given their final checks. Jim had decided that for the first trip the Remote team would stay on the _Enterprise_. Even if their signal cut off once the docking door opened, getting that far should tell them something. Especially since Spock had to admit that their own equipment couldn't tell if the round object was shielded by some new type of force or blocking field, or if the material itself kept their scanners from learning anything. They couldn't even tell what the material was. Just getting a peek once the door opened could tell them a lot.

And, if the new arrivals reacted negatively, then he didn't have two crewmen on the shuttle, hovering halfway in-between.

Jim did his best to not get into anyone's way or distract them. He tried to ignore Halman and his team, who'd been brought back to the bridge once MedBay had checked them out. At least Rand had kept them off his back for that long.

At one point, Halman had an animated, but quiet, discussion with Rand at the back of the Bridge. She then strode over to Jim, waiting until he acknowledged her presence.

"It is within his right to insist," Rand murmured to Jim with a frown. "He and his team _are _to have _all_ access while--"

"Understood," Jim said. If Rand admitted that Halman had a right to him, he'd give him a few moments. Just so he could shut him up before things got hectic. Once things got going, Jim would make sure that Halman was a non-issue.

Jim walked back to Halman and nodded, indicating he could speak.

"Captain, this is_ amazing_!" Halman said gleefully. "A _First Contact_ from some distant part of the galaxy! All recorded!"

"Mr. Halman," Jim said, taking Halman's arm and leading him back toward the Ready Room door, and out of everyone's way. He tried to be patient. "For historical and security reasons, much of what we do is recorded. We're even now streaming current data to Starbase 12, and the_ Arrowman,_ who is on its way. This isn't exactly an exclusive."

"Oh, it really _is_," Halman said with a smile. "Do you_ know _what kind of bureaucracy any Federation Starship video goes through before it reaches the public? If ever? _Clips_ from a Starship are scarcer than three-legged tribbles. This is _latinum_. How soon can we get inside the visitor's spaceship? At what point will we be seeing them? I'd like to have my video technician--"

"_Mr._ Halman," Jim said with a sigh, knowing his impatience was showing in his face and tone, but not caring. "Please, let's make this _clear_. Once _again_. I'm only _allowing_ you on the bridge under the condition that you stay _out of the way_. Stay back. Stay quiet, and you'll probably know what happens when we do."

Halman frowned. "This could be the _making_ of your career, Captain--"

"Yeoman Rand. Call two security men up to the bridge," Jim ordered the hovering Yeoman, keeping his eyes on Hallman.

"Yes, _Sir_," Rand answered swiftly, her hand's already playing across her PADD as she threw a scolding look at Halman. "They're on their way."

"Interrupt anyone on this bridge again, Mr. Hallman, and I'll have them _drag_ you out."

Halman schooled his face into a neutral expression and nodded. He held up both hands in a gesture of peace. "I hear you, Captain."

Halman backed off and went over to where his two assistants were staying back out of the way. Yandel was working her PADD as hard as Rand was, and Burrows was smiling slightly. Jim realized her camera was floating up over his head, and she'd gotten every word.

_Just great. I probably look like an ass,_ Jim thought as he turned back toward the viewscreen, catching Bones's annoyed frown at the news-crew. Bones caught his eyes, and the look he gave back to Jim told him that Bones wouldn't have been so nice.

Scotty soon reported that they had a shuttle ready for autopilot, along with the spider-drone. It was another ten minutes until the Remote Survey team reported that they were in the MedBay, connected and ready.

"Rhee, launch the shuttle as soon as you're ready."

"Aye, Sir."

Jim watched over Rhee's shoulder as her screen took on the view of the control panel of the shuttle carrying the spider-drone.

Rhee flew the shuttle expertly, keeping the shuttle at medium speed. It felt like a long trip, since the _Enterprise_ was still, theoretically, out of range of anything that could affect its warp engines. But as it approached the edge of the open platform, the vessel emitted another blinding light, making the shuttle glow. It only lasted a second.

"They have scanned the shuttle," Spock announced. "The Survey team is still reading a strong connection."

Watching the screen, Jim saw the shuttle bounce back and away from the landing pad.

"I've hit a force field," Rhee announced distractedly as she worked the shuttle remote control. "It's _strong_."

"Back off a bit," Jim ordered.

"No damage reported to the shuttle," Spock announced. "The force field was reactive to the shuttle's speed, and initially gave just enough force to keep from damaging the craft, but with the result of pushing it back."

"Like bouncing off a balloon?" McCoy asked with concern. "Why? We were invited, right?"

"Unless we've read all their signals wrong," Jim admitted.

"Captain, we're now getting a repeat of our signals," Uhura said, "both our signals to the shuttle, _and_ the signals to the spider-drone."

"So, they listened in on us controlling both," Jim said, frowning. "Uhura, what--?"

"Another change in their display," Spock announced.

Jim turned toward the screen. The vessel itself had stopped showing the pulsing rings, with the docking platform at its center. Now, the whole top half of the vessel was dark, except for the outline of a figure on each side of the docking port. It was crude, with a head, legs, and arms jutting from a thick, rectangular torso. As they watched, the two figures shrank, looking as if they were moving closer and closer to the portal."

"Well, they've got our basic design right," Bones muttered. "Did they get that from their scan?"

"The First Contact protocol," Spock began, obviously fascinated by the sight of the light show replaying itself across the screen, "includes various videos, symbols, drawings, and pictures in various formats of all of the Federation member species."

"But without any of the thorny details," Bones said. "So, they can't lob any disease our way, but won't run off screaming if they see one of us in person, or in any communication."

"That's the idea," Jim said, watching the two figures come to the edge of the platform, then reappear at the outer edges. "I take it that they're inviting us, personally, and not a drone or an empty shuttle."

"That would be a logical interpretation," Spock said.

"But why?" Bones asked, one arm across his body while the other hand worried at his lip. "Why a_ living_ being?"

"It may be, Doctor, that the life form we have encountered is telepathic or empathic in some way. So cannot communicate well through artificial devices."

_Which means a boarding crew as a welcoming committee,_ Jim decided. _These people have some awe-inspiring technologies, and I'm sure that more than just the Federation would find those new technologies useful. And who else are they teamed up with? _

_There could be a whole other galaxy out there that we could co-mingle with. _

_Better us than the Klingons or the Romulans. They easily could have appeared in their space first._

_Or, maybe... they already have._

"We'll need to send a live crew over," Jim said to Spock and Bones with a frown. He'd actually hoped it wouldn't come to this. "That's the three of us. Spock, call the shuttle back but leave the drone ready to go. Maybe they won't object to us taking it along. If they do, we'll back off and dump it. Call Scotty to the Bridge."

When Scotty got to the Bridge, Jim filled him in on his orders. Since reinforcements were on the way, if anything happened that wasn't a direct attack on the ship, he was to back off and keep their defenses up. And in case of direct attack, take evasive maneuvers and, once again, wait for backup. When the _Arrowman_ arrived, Scotty was to then follow Captain Neeler's orders.

The landing party was expendable. Jim didn't want a war to break out over a misunderstanding or tragic accident.

Leaving the Bridge, Jim found Halman and his team were standing outside in the corridor, next to the lifts. Jim tried not to scowl at them.

"You said the _Bridge_, Captain," Halman said with a smile as the three of them, including Rand, boarded the lift with him. The camera hovered silently over his shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Halman, I _am_ aware of what I said. You are correct that this is not the Bridge," Jim conceded the point.

"Good! Now, Captain, why is it that you've decided to be a part of the First Contact team? Don't you believe your place is on the _ship_?"

"As Captain, I am in charge of this First Contact scenario," Jim said reluctantly as he entered a lift. "It is my responsibility to make sure everything goes as well as possible, and that we present a welcoming front. I am Starfleet's, and thus the Federation's, foremost representative. I won't assign that to anyone else. We have clearly been invited. I plan on accepting the invitation."

"But if something goes wrong--"

"Then Lieutenant Commander Scott has clear orders, and I trust his judgment." Jim gave Halman a hard look. "I would not put someone in charge that I didn't trust. And I know my crew. I have served with many of them for several years, and had a hand in choosing the rest, as they became assigned to the _Enterprise_. They are all talented, smart, hard-working people. I wouldn't have them on my ship if I didn't trust them to come through at the right time, in the right way."

"And you can't wait for the _Arrowman_ to arrive? Provide backup?"

"So far, there hasn't been any reason to take the actions of the new arrivals as hostile," Jim said. "Also, they may not be comfortable with two ships in the area, and could become apprehensive. Feel outnumbered. I see no need to delay acting on their invitation."

Jim was glad for the interruption of the lift's arrival. Halman and his crew followed him and McCoy to the Docking Bay door. Jim signaled Bones and Spock to go in ahead of him.

"Mr. Halman, your access ends here," Jim said. "Rand, take them to the forward viewport."

"Captain, You can't--"

"I can," Jim said over Halman's protestations. "The Bridge has plenty of recording devices already. You can petition them for footage of what happens next. Since I am the focus of the documentary, and since I will not be on the Bridge, your access is now denied."

"I will officially protest this," Halman said with annoyance.

"I would expect no less," Jim admitted. "Rand?"

Rand, who had moved to stand beside Jim, gave Halman a hard glare and stepped and between them.

"This way, please," Rand said in a business-like manner to Halman as Jim turned and escaped through the Docking Bay doors.

At least for a while, he'd managed to cross one more thing off his list of things he had to worry about.

The trip to the alien vessel went quickly. Protected in their EV suits, Jim in gold and Bones and Spock in blue, they boarded the returned shuttle, the _Ingram,_ and joined the large spider-drone already on board. Jim found himself holding his breath as the Ingram made its way past the area where the shuttle had first been stopped, and Jim landed them on the alien platform and docked. Spock and the shuttle both reported a perfect fit.

There had been no new flashes of orange light to signal that they'd been scanned. But the vessel obviously knew that there were now life forms on the shuttle.

Just as they'd requested.

After they'd docked and both doors opened, all Jim could see was darkness and the dim roll of data from his suit scrolling down the side of his faceplate. There seemed to be nothing but pitch black in front of him, and the light from his visor was swallowed up into it.

"Captain, I am getting no readings," Spock said with a slight bit of frustration in his voice, just behind Jim's right shoulder.

"Same here," Bones echoed, studying his own scanner. "Except for us, that is."

"We've been _invited_," Jim said, taking a deep breath. "We're _glad_ to meet them. So, I'm not going to hesitate. Stay behind me."

He took several confident steps into the darkness, feeling a flat, smooth surface beneath his boots that did not show up under the visor's light. He could hear, through the suits microphones, the sound of the steps of his crew behind him and the metallic clicking of the spider-drone's multiple feet as it followed behind them.

He had taken almost a dozen steps into the sphere when a row of lights flickered on. Small, glowing dots made a straight line ahead of him. At the end was the lit outline of a triangle, the wider part at the top. Jim stopped, unable to tell how far away the shape was without any references in the darkness.

"Spock? Is that an object? A door? A sign?"

"I have no new information," Spock said grimly. "My scanners are not producing any readings."

"Still nothing," Bones added tightly.

"Lieutenant Tyreen? How are your readings from the shuttle? What is the drone seeing?"

"Captain, we have no readings--"

Jim turned to look at Spock when the message stopped abruptly.

"Captain, the drone has just gone off-line," Spock said stiffly. "The signal was strong until just a second ago. Then... nothing."

Jim turned and saw the spider drone had stopped several paces behind them. He toggled his own mic with his chin, to test his connection to the ship.

"Uhura? Do you still read us?"

Uhura's voice sounded tinny over his visor's speakers.

"Aye, Captain," Uhura replied. "But there's some kind of interference. We're not getting any of your biological feeds from your suit. They cut out the same second the line to the drone went dead. We're trying to pinpoint the source of the interference to see if we can override it."

"Let us know of any changes," Jim ordered. "Scotty?"

Scotty's voice was also weak. "Here, Captain."

"Any idea on what took the Remote Survey Group off-line? Are they okay?"

"They're fine. It's just like their connection to the spider-drone was... shut off cold. We don't know if it's the signal that's died, or the drone itself."

"We'll try to check it on the way out," Jim said. "Can we drag it back out with us if we have to?"

"Between the three of ye? No. Too heavy. But Captain, if we're going to be losin' contact with you, should you be goin' in there?"

_Good question,_ Jim thought, his mind going over all their options. _But we've still not managed to make contact yet. No glimpse of the aliens, if they're even here themselves, nor any real information on what their technology is like. _

_They're so close to traffic lanes, the starbase, and even some worlds... If they can control a wormhole, they could go anywhere._

_This may be the only chance we have of avoiding a catastrophe._

"We're going in, Scotty. Stick to the plan."

Scotty's voice was reluctant. "Aye, Sir."

Jim turned to Bones and Spock. "Keep sending back _everything_ you record to the _Enterprise_. Even _no_ information _is_ information."

Jim turned back toward the triangle and the lights leading to it and strode forward. "Let's not keep our hosts waiting. Spock, time our walk from here. See if you can figure out the distance."

Watching the timer at the bottom of his visor, Jim saw that it took him just over two minutes at a steady pace to reach the lit, triangular outline. He stopped in front of it, still unable to make out anything in front of him but a deep, matt black.

"We should be approximately 80 meters from the docking port," Spock announced.

"That's an awful long way to get to any kind of welcome mat," Bones mumbled. "Are they already here, or do we have to wait for them to arrive?"

Having no answer and wanting one, Jim reached out and touched the center of the triangle. Before he could even pull his hand back, the center of the triangle disappeared, and a bright, white, light washed over him. Jim blinked; his visor had not responded quite fast enough.

Jim drew a quick breath as he looked at the new area inside.

"It looks like the _Enterprise_'s corridors!" Bones said with surprise.

Jim thought so as well. Not only were the walls an off-white, shiny material, but they were shaped the same as well. It looked as if each wall panel could be pulled out to access the tech behind it, just like on the ship. Even the round recessed lights in the ceiling were the same. The only difference was that instead of leading off into a slightly curved hallway, the area was a large circle, with a dais in the middle.

Even the three steps up to the center were lit and colored in the same way they would be on the ship.

This wasn't a room that was on the _Enterprise_, but it certainly looked like it belonged there.

"Uhura?"

"Still online, Captain."

"Are you getting any of this from Spock's tricorder?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Let me know if the signal starts to degrade."

"Aye. Sir."

"Gentlemen," Jim said after taking a deep breath, "time to meet the neighbors."

Jim took a step through the narrow opening, testing the floor under his foot. It felt as solid as anything else. He stepped all the way through and moved forward enough that Spock and Bones could come through behind him.

"Captain," Spock warned just as the ping of signal loss came from his own visor.

The readings on his visor told him that their connection to the _Enterprise_ was completely gone.

Turning behind him, Jim was not surprised to see the opening was gone, and the wall where it had been, was like the rest, with no sign of a door or other exit.

_That wasn't a fade-out or static interference. It was purposefully blocked._

_Which means they have more control than I thought. Losing connection to the drone wasn't an accident._

"Well, we're committed to this now," Bones said grimly.

"We are," Jim confirmed as he looked around. "Either they don't want us to leave, or they don't realize that taking away our only exit could make us twitchy. The only easy way left is forward."

Jim took a few cautious steps toward the dais. When he was still a few meters away, a transparent panel was lowered from the ceiling to the middle of the dais. He stopped and watched it descend. It looked like one of their Bridge displays.

Reminding him of a child's drawing, a humanoid-shaped outline of a being in a spacesuit like their own appeared. It was still simplistic, and as Jim watched it pantomimed taking its helmet off, revealing a round head with no features.

"Captain, we're getting an atmosphere feed," Spock announced. "The air pressure is approaching that of the_ Enterprise_."

"Oxygen, nitrogen..." Bones added, working his med scanner. He shook his head. "We can breathe it, and it's totally sterile. This is one hell of a cleanroom! I'm not getting _any _readings of any life at all except for what our suits let through. And the temperature and humidity are rising to levels that match those of the ship. They've got some damn good scanners on this thing if they've read us well enough to even get the _humidity _right."

"They set out the welcome mat," Jim said, reaching up to unlatch his helmet. "Time to say_ 'Hello'_."

"Jim?" Bones sounded startled that Jim would actually do such a thing.

Spock stepped closer on his other side. "Captain, we cannot be sure--"

"_No_, we can't," Jim admitted, turning toward him. "But we can't ask them to trust us if we don't trust them. Both you and Bones keep your suits intact, just in case. No chatter."

Which was just another way of telling them he didn't want the newcomers to hear them argue.

Jim toggled the settings in his helmet to project their conversations into the room, as well as pick up his voice. Then Jim released the seal on the helmet and pulled in a lungful of air as he pulled it off. It wasn't too dry or too wet.

_They really did get the readings right. That **is** one hell of a scanner._

Jim glanced at Bones, whose worried eyes watched him closely as he took another huge breath.

"Smells like... nothing," Jim said, noticing that his ears didn't even pop. He turned his head, looking around him. "Not even any ozone smell."

The animation on the transparent screen disappeared. The screen then rolled up into the ceiling.

_So, they don't need Bones and Spock to take their helmet's off? Maybe that's a good sign._

For a very long minute, nothing happened.

_The ball must be back in our court again. Time for the next step._

"Hello!" Jim's voice didn't echo.

With his helmet under his arm, he stood casually. He kept his voice loud, but his tone calm and casual. He knew the First Contact Greeting by heart.

"My name is James T. Kirk. I am the Captain of the Starship _Enterprise_. We are in service to the United Federation of Planets. We are an interstellar alliance, composed of numerous planetary governments, united in the belief in the basic principles of universal liberty, rights, and equality. Our goal is the mutual sharing of knowledge, friendship, exploration, and resources between members, and those we call our friends. _Welcome _to our space. We greet you in peace."

They all stood still for a few minutes. The silence was heavy. Almost oppressive. Jim's own breathing and the rustle of Spock and Bones's suits as they moved, waving their scanners around, were the only sounds in the room.

"I am not reading any new response," Spock said quietly, his voice echoing from the speakers in Jim's helmet.

A sudden, hard gust of air blew over Jim, startling him for a second. It ruffled his hair and forced the three of them back a step before it disappeared just as suddenly.

"Jim?" Bones asked.

"I'm fine. Spock? Where did that gust come from?"

"From the ceiling," Spock said. He turned to look behind them. "It exited behind us. Both openings were there for less than a second."

"Why would they do that?" Bones asked.

Jim took a step toward the dais. "Disinfection purposes?"

"That air was just as sterile as the rest," Bones said. "I didn't detect any kind of chemicals in it."

"And I detected no radiation of any kind, nor any change in light frequency," Spock added.

"Smelling us?" Jim asked.

"Unknown," Spock answered.

Suddenly, a triangular-shaped piece of equipment lowered itself from the ceiling over the center of the dais. It looked bright white and shiny, like the material of the walls.

Jim, now about a meter from the lowest step up to the dais, kept his position. He resisted the urge to put his helmet back on.

_They know us a lot better than we know them. If they'd wanted to harm us, they've had a chance to try._

The air suddenly shimmered in what looked to Jim like a variation of their transporter beam. Something formed in the center of the dais.

_Is this them? Or another tool to communicate with us?_

Jim watched as something solid took shape. It was about half a meter tall, tubular, and one meter wide. It was jelly like and was covered in spots in what looked to be something like patches of blond hair on the outside.

As soon as it formed, it writhed and flopped around. As it rolled, Jim tried not to startle as he got a glimpse of what looked to be two human-like eyes, optic nerves attached, roll around loosely in the jelly like interior. He thought they would have been blue if they'd been on the outside of the form.

He felt a flash of disgust, and wrongness, and fought to hold his ground and best poker-face.

_Is there something wrong with it? _Jim wondered with concern. Its writhing grew desperate. _Not all species even come close to looking like us. I'm used to that. Maybe it's our atmosphere?_

_But would some species, who're obviously more advanced than us, send one of their own into our atmosphere, only to die?_

Bones quickly stepped up to Jim's side.

"The readings..." Bones began, sounding confused. "I don't _understand_ them. I can't tell if it's healthy or even conscious. I'm not reading any biological organs that seem functional."

"I do not think it can survive in this atmosphere," Spock added, sounding grim and fascinated at the same time.

Suddenly, another wave of shimmer came from the ceiling, and the being disappeared.

A new form took its place.

This form was more substantial. As it took shape, Jim drew a deep breath as shock flooded him.

_No, that can't be right!_

_It looks... Like a transporter accident!_

Jim felt stunned, fighting the urge to back away.

What formed had a more flesh-like covering over a torso, but the rest was a jumble of parts that made no sense.

It's skin, for lack of a better word, varied from a pale, light color, to dark, with patches of blue. There were swaths and spikes of various colored hair that looked randomly placed. But it was the limbs and orifices that shocked him. There was an eye, solid in bluish flesh and with a hazel iris, that turned wildly in its socket. A gaping opening that almost resembled a mouth with miss-shaped lips that opened and closed rapidly. There was something like a human limb, emerging at what looked to be a shoulder, only to end back inside the torso at what would be a wrist. An elbow flexed in the middle. An Andorian antennae twitched. Something that looked like a lump of a nose, a bit of brow next to what was clearly a Vulcan-shaped ear rolled into sight. A rudimentary hand, human-shaped, came half-way out of the torso, its '_skin_' a shapeless, pebbled blue. Other limbs, some more boney spikes than human-like, flopped and flailed as it seemed to twist in agony.

As it moved and twisted, a flopping, slapping sound the only noise coming from it, Jim gasped.

"Bones!"

Bones moved past Jim, closer to the being, almost taking a step up onto the dais. The glimpse Jim got of Bones's face behind his visor told him that this being had all of Bones's attention and concentration. Jim grabbed Bones's arm to keep him from getting too close.

As the beam from the ceiling took the new arrival away once again, Bones turned to Jim, his face full of consternation behind his visor.

"Jim! That's _not _an alien life form. That's **us**!"

"What? Explain!"

"Jim, we humans are not just all _one _life form," Bones said, shaking his head. "Most humanoid forms in this part of the galaxy are a _collection_ of cells of the individual, and billions of diverse bacteria and microbes. All either communalistic or mutualistic. Either they don't work for or against us, they just live on us, or we both benefit from them living on our skin, in our eyes, mouths, and in our guts."

"The microbiome of almost all forms of life on this side of the galaxy," Spock added. "We all exist with the microbes that are native to our evolutionary locations. One of the basic tests of whether a life form is native to its location is the number of local microbes that have developed a symbiotic relationship with the life form in question. The lower the matches in the microbiome, the less likely the life originated in that location."

"_Precisely_," Bones said excitedly. "Jim, we're _all _a complex microbiome of microorganisms that share the same space. If you take a human apart and separate the cells that come with our bodies, our DNA, and those of the microorganisms that live in and on us, the microorganisms greatly outnumber the human cells."

The meaning hit Jim like a bolt.

"They're trying to re-create _us_," Jim said, looking back to where the two '_beings_' had been just moments before. "That's why they wanted at least one of us to take off our protection. And why the gush of air."

"They _sampled_ your DNA," Bones said, shaking his head. "From whatever microbes, bacteria, air-born debris from the ship, or skin cells of your own that was on your exposed areas when that gust of wind pulled them in for collection."

"The mark of a research biologist," Spock said dryly. "Take samples where it is possible while doing no harm. Study the environment and microbiome of the subject."

"I think that's where they messed up," Bones said with a frown. "They must not be aware of the divergent life we're composed of. Or how DNA _works_."

"They're trying to build a biological tool," Jim looked at Spock, "not understanding how we're formed, or how our biodome works. For communication purposes?"

"That is a logical conclusion," Spock admitted. "They have created this atmosphere for us. They, themselves, may not be able to function in it. They may feel the need to adapt to our form to communicate."

"Jim, if they keep combining various DNA from all the cells we carry with us, this could take a while," Bone said with a frown. "And what if they succeed? What happens to that life form? So far, they've not come close to anything with a nervous system that we could categorize as _living_. No pain and no consciousness. More like a microbe than us."

"I don't know," Jim admitted.

_They're trying to communicate, by creating a biological tool. And Bones is right. What happens if they manage to put together something that is actually alive?_

Beyond the ethical considerations of creating a life only for short-term use, there were also the ethical problems covering the ones that failed.

_What they've done so far hasn't been alive, so in no pain. _

_And even if we wanted to tell them to stop, to find another way, we can't. _

_They've taken a few minutes since the last attempt. They'll be trying again soon. After they figure out what's going wrong._

"Spock, can you project a diagram of _Human_ DNA on the dais?" Jim asked as he set down his helmet and pulled off his gloves.

"And give them more to work with?" Bones asked dubiously. "Do we want them to know that much about us?"

Spock started to work at setting his scanner to project an image. "They already _have _this information, Doctor. They just need the time to study the cells they do have. I believe the Captain wishes to avoid any further mistakes when it comes to them creating the next tool."

"We don't know how to tell them to _stop_, Bones. If they're going to do this, let them get it right. If they need more human cells to realize that they got too wide a sample, maybe we can keep some of the newer incarnations from suffering."

As soon as both of his hands were free, another strong gust of wind pushed at them, to disappear as suddenly as it came.

There was silence for a few more minutes.

"Maybe this is a good sign," Bones said quietly as the wait grew tense. "They're taking their time."

As if on cue, the shimmer of the beam once again appeared at the center of the dais. A figure began to form.

This time it seemed to be a fully adult, naked, Human male.

_That's... not _me_. _Jim thought with surprise.

Jim was expecting to see a clone of himself, but this wasn't one. Jim estimated the being was about 2 meters tall, a medium build, and appeared to be about twenty years old. His short head hair, eyebrows, and body hair was a strange patching of light and dark.

But what grabbed Jim's total attention was his face. Those were the eyebrows Jim saw in the mirror every morning, along with his chin. But the set of the eyes and the upturned nose were definitely not his.

They looked like Bones's.

And from where he was, it looked like the man had two different colored eyes.

"One blue, one hazel," Jim muttered to himself as he studied the man.

A man who had not moved, or twitched, or even blinked. He just stood at attention.

"Bones?"

"Living flesh," Bones said grimly, studying his scanner. "Basic Human skeleton. Internal organs. But..."

Bones turned to look at Jim, his eyes troubled. "No _brain_. Clusters of nerve endings, but not interconnected in the way a brain would be. Some odd masses, not organic but not clearly artificial, in the skull. I don't think it's conscious. More like a --"

"Living puppet," Jim said.

"Jim, let me test something..."

Bones moved up a few steps, and Jim was preparing himself to grab Bones's arm to keep him from going up on the dais. Instead, Bones stopped at the base of the lowest step and waved his scanner at the young man, running a beam of bluish light over him. Where the light hit him, Jim could see speckles and patches of darker colored skin show up all over his body in uneven and splotchy groups. They looked random.

"Blaschkoid lines... but four sets, not two," McCoy muttered. "And not even lines, but random patches. Not grown, but thrown together."

Jim knew that all Human's had Blaschkoid lines, only visible under special lights. Fetal cells, each producing a slightly different tone of the genetic skin color, grew and spread in predicted patterns as a fetus developed. Under special lights, in some individuals, they could be easily seen. Other times the differences were too subtle.

Bones continued scanning. "Heterochromia... two different colored eyes. A genetic difference, not a mistake. Jim?"

Bones turned, and Jim saw the look of surprise on his face. "This being has _both_ of our DNA! But not _combined_... I mean, not in a natural way but--"

"Patchwork," Jim said grimly. "Proof, Bones, that you've rubbed off on me more than I thought. There were some of your cells in the mix of mine."

Suddenly, the being raised a hand toward them, then lifted its eyes to Jim.

Jim froze, and watched out of the corner of his eyes, as McCoy and Spock continued to take readings. The being's eyes were on Jim, but he didn't feel like there was anyone living behind them.

_But how would I know, if the 'mind' is alien?_

"There is now some form of electronic transmission coming from the ceiling apparatus," Spock said.

"It's what's controlling the body's movements. Still no activity in the body itself that would constitute any brain-like functions," Bones added. "It's an organic puppet all right."

The being lifted its hand even higher, and looking at Jim with empty eyes, held it out toward him.

Suddenly, Jim knew what it wanted.

"It wants me to touch it," Jim told McCoy and Spock. "Somehow, it's part of the process."

Both Spock and Bones replied instantly.

"Jim, that could be _dangerous_\--"

"We do not _know_\--"

"I _understand _the dangers," Jim replied to both of them. "But until we can communicate, we won't know if this is friend or foe. I'd like to stay on this side of friendly, and that means trusting the process."

Jim took one careful step up the first stair, then the second, watching for any reaction from the being in front of him.

_I can barely tell it's breathing. It's looking at me, but not seeing me. _

_It's so strange to see such a mix of Bones and me. Not a real mix, but a patchwork of us. The eyes are strange. So different from each other. And the different colored patches of hair are odd._

The face of the being was what Jim found fascinating. It looked so much like both him and Bones at the same time.

_Yet, I wonder. If we ever did have children of our DNA mix, would any of them look like this?_

Slowly, Jim reached out and touched his fingertips to the being's.

A loud 'zap' filled the air, and made Jim stumble back and down the steps, his hand and arm hurting.

"Jim? Jim, you okay?"

Bones was holding him on one side as he scanned him, while Spock held Jim's other arm. Both were studying him, worry across both visored faces.

"I'm... I'm fine," Jim said, taking a breath and gently shaking both of them off. "Just felt like a powerful static charge."

"Sssstatttic charrrrge..."

All three of looked up to watch as the being stuttered, its mouth making exaggerated movements.

Spock once again put his scanner to work.

Its arm lowered, and its face moved, but it didn't try to take a step. It blinked and looked around.

"Still no brain, or centralized nerve activity," Bones said watching his own readings. He shook his head.

"The Doctor is right," Spock said, sounding fascinated. "All nerve impulses are originating from the device above it. It must have needed you to touch it so that it could copy your central nervous system."

In a weird parody of his own speech, it started to talk.

"Myyyy nammm is Jmmmmes Teekirk." its voice started out as slow, thick, and mucousy. "Hi hammm the Capteen huf the Starssship _Enterprusss_...."

It went on to repeat the whole First Contact greeting, getting better as it practiced.

Jim waited until it finished, then slowly stepped up both steps to the dais again. He stopped at the top.

The being's eyes followed his every move. Jim placed his hand on his own chest.

"_I_ am James T. Kirk," Jim said with an even tone. "That is _my_ personal designation among my people. Do you have your own _name_?"

The being blinked several times, watching him, but didn't respond.

"The information flow between the controller above it and the being have intensified," Spock said from behind him. "I believe they are trying to translate your question."

Suddenly, the head of the being tilted to one side, and it looked at Jim with the first sign Jim had seen of an expression.

"You. Are. Different," the being said. Its words were choppy, but distinct. "To talk is many levels between."

"You have found a way to communicate," Jim said, watching the being carefully. "_Beyond _our differences."

"Agreement," the being replied with a nod of its head.

_Words. Tone. Now body language._

_They learn fast. They adapt fast. _

_And I think they took more from that touch than just the understanding of how my nervous system works._

_Did they take knowledge as well?_

"We come in _peace_," Jim said. "Do you understand the concept?"

"To be not a competition," the being said watching Jim closely. "To offer non-aggression."

"In a way, yes," Jim said, giving the being a smile.

It tried to smile back.

Which was pretty eerie, with its different colored eyes still looking at him, but seemingly empty as well.

Jim continued. "I am a representative of the Federation. We are but one group in this part of the galaxy. We look to make friends and share resources. Do you have a name?"

It froze, and for a few seconds, Jim thought that they'd lost contact in some way.

"No named as such. We see we must choose one for communication purposes. You are all _Federation_. You as individual are _James T. Kirk_. We are all... _all_. This tool has no designation. You may assign one."

Surprised at the offer, Jim turned a questioning look back at Bones and Spock.

Bones looked at Jim with a slight grin and shrugged. "All I got is '_Pinocchio'_. I'm not sure the brass would appreciate that one."

"There is a Vulcan word that means _'the act or process of translation'_," Spock said. "That is_ 'mesukh'_. It may have other meanings, but none that I am familiar with in Standard."

Jim turned back toward the being. "Then we can agree that the personal designation of this tool is _Mesukh_?"

"Agreed." The newly christened Mesukh nodded.

"Do we call your species _Mesukh _as well?"

"Agreed."

"Now that we have a means of communication open to us, we welcome you to Federation space," Jim said. "In order to facilitate our introductions to each other, we request that we be allowed contact with our ship and that you allow the ships around you to start their engines again."

Mesukh froze for a second. Even his breathing stopped. Jim was studying it so closely that when it moved again he almost startled.

"We do not understand. We do not stop your ships. We do not hold them. They may leave when they leave."

"Good to know it wasn't on purpose," Jim said. _But that still doesn't explain why they're dead in the water. Do they really not know? _"May the ability to communicate with our ship be returned to us?"

"No," Mesukh said.

Jim stiffened. "No?"

"Unnecessary. With communication comes testing," Mesukh said. "You must be worthy of contact. We make no contact with children. This communication device will decide if contact with our species is warranted."

"Captain?" Spock said. "If I may speak to it directly?"

"Go ahead," Jim said, turning to give him a quick nod.

Spock also removed his helmet and stepped up onto the dais with Jim.

"You are a communication tool?" Spock asked.

"Yes."

"You represent your makers?"

"Yes."

"You are not one of them."

Mesukh blinked.

"I am a tool. I represent the makers."

"Captain," Spock said, keeping his voice low. "I do not believe that this is a conventional First Contact. I suspect that this is a probe, and not a ship or a biological living life form. It may be a form of artificial intelligence, but that is not something we can test for at this time."

"And they mimic whoever they find at the other end of the wormhole," Bones said, still behind his visor. "So they can communicate."

_A lot more sophisticated than any probe we've ever sent out,_ Jim thought. _And a lot more dangerous. We need to know more about them._

"You are a probe," Jim stated.

Mesukh blinked again.

"Yes."

"What is your mission?"

Mesukh blinked once more, and Jim noticed the pauses were getting shorter.

"My mission is to explore. To find those worthy of contact."

"You have made contact with us," Jim said. "Are we deemed worthy?"

Mesukh raised both hands, palms up, as if he were cupping something invisible. Suddenly, a bright purple light flickered, and Jim saw what looked like a crystal form in Mesukh's hands.

"You must pass the tests. If you pass the tests, you will be worthy of our friendship. We have much to offer in friendship and trade. We have science and technology that surpasses yours, both in the sciences of space and those of your biological forms. We can show you how to improve these forms so that they will not decay and die. How to feed and shelter all of your beings with little costs to your environments. How to harness the power of stars. We can show you how to travel to other galaxies. We can protect you when you can not protect yourselves. But we do not deal with children."

"And if we _don't_ pass your tests?" Jim asked.

"All contact will be terminated."

Something about that statement made chills run down Jim's spine.

"In what _way _will contact be terminated?"

"All contact will be terminated."

_Why does that sound more like a threat and less like a promise to take their leave peacefully?_

Mesukh took two faltering steps forward, toward Jim. He held his hands out to him, offering the purple, crystal-like object.

"This will interface with your technologies. These are your tests. When you have found the answers, you may send them to this probe as you did your messages. You have one thousand pulses to solve them all."

Jim took the few steps forward he needed to reach the offered crystal. He found himself reluctant to get too near Mesukh. His earlier fascination had turned to a form of unease and wariness now that he suspected that there was no real life behind the body's animation. The use of his and Bones's genetic material now felt more like a violation, rather than any type of homage or sincere desire to communicate.

Carefully, Jim reached out and took the crystal from Mesukh, trying to ignore the crawl of his stomach as he also tried to ignore eerily familiar hazel and blue eyes.

The purple crystal felt warm in Jim's hand.

"You must go now. You have one thousand pulses to produce the answers."

Jim turned and handed the crystal to Spock, then signaled both Spock and Bones to follow him. While heading for the exit, he pulled on his gloves and sealed them before putting his helmet back on.

Jim strode quickly back out into the darkness between the artificial meeting space and the dock, passing the still dead spider-drone.

The second they entered the shuttle, all the comms came back online.

"Captain Kirk!" Scotty said excitedly. "Can you read us?"

"We're here, Scotty!" Jim said as they prepared to fly back to the _Enterprise_, Spock carefully holding the crystal. "We're on our way back with some sort of data crystal. We'll be sending over all our scanner and suit recordings as we go. Get every bit of data copied and sent to the _Arrowman_ and Starbase 12. Are the--"

Suddenly, the controls of the shuttle lit up with information coming from their aft sensors. And for a split second, the image of the _Enterprise_ that was shown on the shuttle's screen flashed with reflective light."

"What was that?" Bones asked.

"The alien probe has sent out a powerful light pulse," Spock said, working a data-panel with one hand while holding the crystal in the other.

"One thousand pulses," Jim said grimly.

Scotty's voice came through almost instantly. "Captain, did you--?"

"Scotty, start timing the light pulses. We're under a deadline here, and that's our timer. Get the heads of the Science and Computer labs at the Docking Bay to meet us. We've got a lot of information to process, and I don't know how much time we have."

"Aye, Captain."


	6. Chapter 6

***

Chapter Six

***

"The original deadline gave us just over 10 hours," Jim said to the three people on the split-view screen in the middle of his Ready Room table. Stocker, Sanin, and Neeler all had severe looks on their faces. "According to the flash patterns, that is. Spock says they're consistent, at point 6 minutes between each flash. So I don't think that there's much doubt about our time limit. We now have just over five hours to go, with almost five hours gone."

Spock had been much more precise, but Jim knew they could all figure the milliseconds down for themselves.

And those had been some frantic five hours. The crystal had been a simple data storage device that their computers had been able to access easily. Inside was a primer that they could use to translate the strange symbols to numbers, mathematical symbols, along with their periodic table of elements, and various chemical and biological problems. The other files were bits and pieces of multiple problems spanning an extensive range of sciences. All needing solutions or the addition of missing information.

_"They aren't asking for much_," Bones had complained. "_Just all of our cutting-edge technology and biological sciences!"_

And what had added to their frustration was that nothing Jim, Bones, or Spock had seen inside that ship had been recorded by their suits or scanners. All they'd brought out with them was the crystal and their stories of what happened inside.

The good news had been the recent arrival of the _Arrowman_ and more than a few dozen other Starfleet ships that Stocker had commandeered. They ranged from Auxiliary space vessels, a cargo drone, survey, and recovery, to an empty transport ship. Most of the captains Jim had just recently met. They were staying well back, where the _Arrowman_ had joined the _Enterprise_.

Also, the ships that had been knocked out of the travel route had found that they were able to restart their engines once the Mesukh's vessel, shortened to _The Mesukh_ for brevity, had started to move out of the area. Those ships had been able to leave under their own power, so did so as soon as they were ready.

The bad news was that the _Mesukh_ had just started to move toward the Starbase. It wasn't warp, but it was much faster than impulse. And, somehow, the tenuous connection between the _Mesukh_ and the wormhole lengthen as it moved, keeping the _Mesukh_ and the wormhole connected. And the further the _Mesukh_ got from the wormhole, the smaller it shrank.

Which suggested that the _Mesukh_ had a range limit. But their calculations indicated that that range included the Starbase.

Spock, Scotty, and the _Arrowman_'s crew were working fast and furious on figuring out how it moved and what was happening with the wormhole. Starfleet and Stocker's teams were working behind the scenes as well. There was no telling whose team would figure it out first. If ever.

"And they're now just five hours at current speed from the Starbase," Stocker said grimly. "Five hours left for the answers, and Five hours until they arrive at the Starbase. That's hardly a coincidence. We are, of course, collecting the various answers to the test questions from across the Federation. Almost all of them are advanced studies, and some even barely more than theories. I've also been warned that some of the problems are hard to understand or categorize. We can't answer a question we can't understand. I suggest this team concentrate on the probe itself, rather than finding the answers."

"Agreed," Sanin said. "If all they want is answers before they get friendly, then why continue to head toward the Starbase?"

"Distraction?" Jim suggested.

"Intimidation?" Neeler added.

"Or, they want First Contact to be made at the largest example of our technology," Jim said.

"Better photo op?" Neeler asked with a hint of amusement.

"Or, all of the above," Stocker said. "Whatever their reasons, I think that they've had enough free reign in our territory. They can ask all the questions they want, but we need some answers ourselves."

"They're still ignoring any further contact," Sanin grumbled.

"They're still smaller than either the _Enterprise_ or the _Arrowman_," Neeler said. "I think it's time the two ships stood their ground."

"Pick a spot and set up a blockade?" Jim asked.

Stocker frowned. "I don't want to derail what could be a beneficial relationship. But they_ are_ in our space, _uninvited_ if not welcomed. I think it's time we draw that line in the sand. We can't let ourselves be bullied with promises of future rewards."

"Rewards that may never come," Sanin noted sourly. "They certainly have not been very giving."

"Sir," Jim began. "If the _Arrowman_ and the _Enterprise_ put ourselves between the Starbase and the _Mesukh_, we could lose warp just by letting them get too close. Taking out both of the biggest ships."

"If we don't lose warp, and they plow right through us?" Neeler asked, eyebrow on the rise. "We attack? We're going to need clear orders on that."

"You both bring up good points," Stocker admitted. "Which is why I'm going to order the captains of the other ships to form a wall in the _Mesukh_'s path. The _Enterprise_ and the _Arrowman_ will keep out of range, and we'll see if the _Mesukh_ ignores our orders to stop, if it tries to make it past our ships, and how it affects their warp. The _Arrowman_ will stay at a safe range, behind the wall."

Jim frowned. He didn't like putting those other ships in the way. While all were armed in some way, since all Starfleet vessels had at least the primary defenses, none of them were on par with a starship.

_But if the Arrowman and the Enterprise are the best defense he has, he can't afford to lose them this early in our encounter._

_Except... that's a lot of ships to sacrifice if it all goes wrong._

"Captain Neeler, I'm sending you the flight plan for the other ships. Set them up to block the alien vessel _here_, where we expect the _Mesukh_ to be in another two hours. If they try to plow through you, send off warning shots. If that doesn't stop them, then we may be forced to take a defensive stance and use our weapons."

A star map popped up on the holo-screen. Neeler confirmed the order.

"Captain Kirk, I want the _Enterprise_ to be the one in front of the blockade, asking them nicely to stand their ground and wait for their answers, away from the main group. Keep your _'good cop'_ status by not going to Red Alert, or powering up your weapons. We're going to assume that they know enough about us to understand what that signals. Only if they fire first may you power your weapons up."

_The sacrificial lamb, if need be,_ Jim thought with a mental sigh. _Not the first time, won't be the last. _

_But Stocker's a good man. I have to trust his instincts._

"Yes, Sir."

"Captains Neeler, Kirk, you both have your orders, we need this wall set up in two hours. Let's get started."

The connection ended.

Jim frowned at the space where the holo used to be. He was tired. It was coming up on the early morning hours, ship's time, and he didn't see sleep happening anytime in the foreseeable future. He needed a jump start to make sure he was up to par for this next round.

Jim tapped his desk com and asked for McCoy.

"Bones? I need a hit of something. We've got something big coming up."

"On my way."

The link cut off. And Jim took the time to go over all the information he'd written in his report about their time inside the _Mesukh_ in case he left anything out, and he sent a copy of their orders to Spock, who was also working with Scotty over the science the _Mesukh_ must use.

There had to be something that would tell them how much they could trust the visitor, and how to react if they couldn't.

Bones came in, a hypo in one hand and a small box in the other. He walked up to Jim and gave him the hypo. Jim could a jolt of energy hit him almost immediately.

"Don't start depending on these. Eating will help."

Jim winced at the pain of the hypo. Forcing microscopic substances through his epidural layer was efficient, but had its cost. Bones set the small plastic box in front of him. Inside was a sandwich.

"Fine," Jim said with a sigh, taking the sandwich for a bite. He could feel energy flow back through him even as he chewed. But like all good things, it wouldn't last. He just needed something to tide him over until he could get his second wind. "Be ready, we're going to try to stop the _Mesukh_ from getting any closer to the Starbase. Without pissing them off."

Jim explained the plan to him. Bones frowned, but nodded.

"We're as ready as we can be," Bones said distractedly. "Jim? When you were on the Starbase, did you run into any Andorians?"

"What?" Jim asked, throwing Bones a confused look. "Not that I remember. Why?"

"No one in the halls? In Stocker's office?"

"Didn't notice," Jim said with a bit of annoyance. "Is this really important?"

"No. Not at the moment," Bones admitted, frowning and looking lost in thought. "But it's just... something I'm going to follow up on."

"Good. _Do_ that," Jim said shortly. He realized he sounded too dismissive, but he had so much to do, and so little time to do it.

"Sorry. Just..."

"Yeah, okay," Bones said distractedly as he turned to leave. "I'll catch up later."

After he left, Jim finished up, wolfed down his sandwich, and returned to the bridge. He'd barely stepped onto the Bridge before Scotty and Spock came up to him.

"Captain!" Scotty said. "I know why the wee ship kills off the warp drives!"

"What? How?"

"Warp drives generate warp fields, to form subspace bubbles that surround the ship, distorting the local spacetime continuum. Inside those we can travel faster than light. The power this _Mesukh_ is using is based on warping subspace in their **own **way. We get too close, our warp field generators can't generate a warp field, because subspace is _already_ warped in a way we can't access or use. They're taking up a much larger area than we do. It's like... having a wee one-lane road. Our vehicles are using the road, staying in the lines. They go over a hill and find that there's a huge cargo vessel dead in the middle of the road. It's so big that our wee vehicles are forced off the road and into the weeds to keep from hitting it. Our engines stall. If we can push the wee vehicles **around** the roadblock, they can reenter the road on the other side, restart their engines, and continue on."

"So, if we get in the way..." Jim said excitedly, "and create... our own parking lot in the middle of the road, with all the warp engines engaged and distorting subspace, then that should force _their_ engines offline?"

"Our ships couldn't be moving, even though the engines aren't meant to start the warp process without actually engaging warp. And I think it'd have to be more than that," Scotty said, shaking his head. "The alien vessel is verra small, and could slip through. A ship's warp field was meant to just surround the ship using it. What we need is a... a hundred car pileup, where the cars are all welded together."

"What Mr. Scott is so creatively alluding to is we would need to link them close enough that their warp bubbles could be shared, or close the space between them as much as possible. Thus creating a large distortion of subspace that, theoretically, the alien vessel will not be able to navigate."

"We've _done_ that," Jim said excitedly. "When we escaped the rift with the _Defiant_, we both were at warp, sharing the same bubble, and attached by tractor beams.

"Exactly!" Scotty said happily. "Only, not at warp, and not that close."

"Got it," Jim said. "Both of you, get this down enough that Commodore Stocker's people can follow it and explain it to him. Send a copy to Captain's Neeler and Sanin as well. Their people may have something to add."

Both men hurried to their stations to get everything down and ready to send off.

_So, if things go wrong, then the Starbase should be protected. Or at least have a few hours notice that they have an incoming hostile force._

_Now, what the hell do I say to the Mesukh, to let them know we're willing to be friends, but that they're getting a little too close for comfort?_

He didn't know, but it'd better be good.

***

Back in his office, Doctor McCoy checked the crew list of the _Enterprise_ once again. Just to be sure. He also checked the files of those that had transferred off recently. He sent off a message to Starbase 12's CMO. They'd have access to the crew and passenger list of those coming and going off the station. That is, if those hitting the Starbase submitted accurate records.

_It's probably nothing, _McCoy thought. _This ship blockage could get nasty if the alien takes offense to having their way blocked. And if they try to go around it. At least this will quit bugging me for a while._

Once that was done, he pushed it to the back of his mind. There were more rounds to make.

***

Jim Kirk sat up straight in his command chair, feeling alert and ready for this ultimatum of their own. He'd gotten his second wind, and the wall of ships was behind him, directly between the alien vessel and its route to Starbase 12. They'd been following the _Mesukh_ at a distance, and had warped ahead once the dozens of ships had been put into place. Scotty's plan seemed to be working, as all the Starfleet ships were using tractor beams to keep each other at distances needed to keep their own warp bubbles as close as possible.

It was a wall of firepower and subspace distortion. Subspace bubbles could make for a reasonably decent shield, if it wasn't so hard to maintain when not being used for warp travel. But there was no telling what kind of firepower the _Mesukh_ had. How long they could keep the wall up, no one knew for sure.

Jim just hoped it was long enough.

The _Arrowman_ was just behind the wall, in case everything went wrong, they'd be in place to use their firepower. Their shields were up, and their weapons activated.

As the _Mesukh_ approached them at sublight speed, Jim had placed the _Enterprise _in front of the wall. Shields down, no alert running, and no weapons powered up. Everyone was at their post, and Jim was even glad to see that Rand had been able to keep Halman and the news-crew off the bridge. He didn't know where they were, and didn't care. As long as they weren't _here_.

"Uhura? Everyone on-line?"

They all knew that everything the _Enterprise_ saw, did, and recorded in every way imaginable, was still being live-streamed to the _Arrowman_, the _Merrimac_, and Starbase 12.

"Yes, Sir."

"Open a channel to the _Mesukh_. Use the same frequency we used for the First Contact message."

"Aye, Sir."

Jim waited a moment, going over his speech in his mind. He watched the distance indicator, showing the Mesukh approaching the wall. So far, it had made no adjustments to avoid the group in its path. And it was still flashing its countdown like a small, flickering sun.

_Either they don't understand that it's a wall, or they don't care. _

_Are they that innocent, or that powerful?_

"Channel open, Captain. They are receiving."

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the _Enterprise_ hailing the _Mesukh_. As representatives of the Federation of Planets, we are pleased to inform you that we have been able to gather answers to most of the questions you have presented in your challenge. We expect to have the last ready within the next hour. But we have an important fact we need to communicate to you. Please respond."

Jim saw the tell-tale light of an incoming response flicker on the edge of the viewscreen.

The voice from the _Mesukh_ wasn't what he expected.

"You may proceed."

_That's not the voice we heard on the ship,_ Jim thought with surprise. This voice was stilted and more mechanical. _They must have gotten rid of their biological tool once we left._

"It has not slowed down, Captain," Spock said, his voice low enough not to be picked up by the Bridge mic.

"While we look forward to the many benefits of a mutual,_ friendly_, association, we cannot at this time allow you access to our Starbase. Once diplomatic ties have been forged, and the agreements worked out to both our satisfaction, we may all plan on further exploration of each other's space. Until that time, we ask that you please respect our wishes in this matter. You are certainly free to wait out the remaining time with us. _Here_."

While the beeps and chirps of regular Bridge activity made a hum in the background, most of the crew had gone quiet.

The next few minutes passed slowly.

"You have blocked our path," the voice from the _Mesukh_ said, its tone flat. "How was this done?"

"Maybe, someday, we will be able to share that information," Jim said.

_But not now. Maybe we have something you really want. Perhaps we're not such children after all._

For a few moments, Jim just stood and watched as the ship came closer and closer. Then the readings at the side of the viewscreen suddenly quit changing.

"Captain, it has come to a stop," Spock said quietly.

The voice from the _Mesukh _sounded a bit harsher than it did before.

"You will provide the answers we have asked of you, to prove that further contact is warranted. Failure to do so, and this contact will be terminated."

"In what _way _will this contact be terminated?" Jim asked.

"This contact will be terminated."

Something flickered across the _Mesukh_ that wasn't light in the normal range, but something in the ultraviolet.

"Captain, I am reading a build-up of power," Spock said tensely.

Jim held his hand up to Uhura in a signal to mute the feed, but not close it.

The _Mesukh_ blinked, its timer still counting down.

"Scotty?" Jim asked quietly.

Scotty was frowning, working his Engineering board like a piano. His reply was distracted and low. "A wee moment here."

"Chekov?"

"I read no recognizable weapon signature," Chekov said with frustration. "Their surface shielding ees very good. All I can read is the power leak that Mr. Spock is reading."

"Rhee? How is the wall holding behind us?"

"All ships are stable, Captain," she reported. They're all maintaining position and pre-warp space distortion.

"Mr. Spock!" Scotty called loudly. "I need your eyes for a moment."

Spock quickly crossed over to Scotty's board and looked over his shoulder.

"Captain, according to Mr. Scott's postulations and what we are recording, I believe the _Mesukh_ is building up power to an explosion."

"Aye, a _big one_, Captain," Scotty said with a frown. "Somehow, they're pulling power from their link to the wormhole."

"Big enough to take us out with shields up?"

Scotty turned to look at Jim, worry on his face. "I'm not sure, but I think it would be enough to take out a _planet_. It'd make short work of us and our wall."

"Spock?"

"With these readings, that is a distinct possibility."

Jim signaled Uhura to unmute the channel.

"_Mesukh_. You intend to destroy yourself, and us, if we do not pass your tests?"

"We will terminate this contact."

"If we can't answer your questions, you would consider us children. Yet you would then destroy us?" Jim asked with disbelief.

"We will terminate this contact. If you are worthy, we will share all of our knowledge. That knowledge _must_ be earned."

"_Mesukh_, that is _not_ the way _we _make contact with new worlds. New species. We offer friendship and _peaceful_ sharing. We do not punish those who are not as developed as we are," Jim insisted.

"Knowledge _must be_ earned. Contact _must be_ earned. You have few flashes left to answer our questions. Once time is done, this contact will be terminated."

_We have just under an hour!_

"Captain, they've closed the channel," Uhura said.

"Get me Stocker, Sanin, and Neeler, in the Ready Room."

"Aye, Sir."

Jim's mind was in a flurry, juggling all the data they had and their available resources.

By the time he sat down, all three were up on the holo screen.

"Captain Kirk," Stocker said gravely. "Our engineers have verified your Engineer's and Science Officer's findings. If the _Mesukh's_ build-up of energy from the wormhole is what we think it is, then it will be enough power to destroy the _Enterprise_ and all the ships holding our defensive wall."

_But not the Starbase. We're far enough away that we'll just be a bright flash of light._

_At least we got it stopped in time._

"If the _Enterprise_ and the _Arrowman_ attack at the same time?" Neeler asked.

"You can't get through the wall any more than the _Mesukh_ can," Stocker said, his face grim. "I will _not _have it brought down at this point, not even to let you through. If it sees you going around it, then it may realize that the edges of our wall aren't as far apart as it believes. Same with the _Enterprise _leaving."

"We could try to break down the wormhole," Jim said, worrying at his lip as he thought. "If it's still drawing power from that--"

Stocker's eyebrow rose. "If you have a way to destroy or collapse a wormhole, Captain, now would be the time to let me know."

Jim felt himself flush. "No, Sir. Not at the moment. I was just thinking out loud."

"Understood," Stocker said, a hint of empathy in his eyes.

"How many answers are we lacking?" Sanin asked.

"Several. Starfleet has their best people on it," Stocker said. "We're expecting an emergency burst through subspace any minute now."

"Cutting it _close_," Neeler muttered.

"It is." Stocker took a breath, then looked directly at Jim. "I'm ordering you to stand your ground, Captain. I'm still hoping to pull this one off, so, no weapons and no shields."

"Understood, Sir."

_Because we already know shields won't save any of us at this point. _

_And if our first blast of phaser fire doesn't work, they'll probably blow up anyway._

_Who's going to worry about losing a probe?_

"Captain, I'll let you know as soon as we get the last few packets. All you need to do now is sit and wait."

"Yes, Sir."

Stocker closed his channel. Sanin left as well.

"Well, you do tend to get yourself into tight spots, don't you, youngster?"

"You're just jealous that I got here first," Jim said, working for a smile.

"Actually, I think I am," Neeler said, her eyebrow rising with amusement. "I read the report about how the probe created a way to communicate with you. Sounds fascinating. But on second thought, with my luck it would have blown not only my DNA off me, but my First Officer's DNA as well. He's one _ugly_ bastard. The result of that mixture probably would have scared the aliens off right from the start."

Jim smile this time was real. "Well, you take your wins where you can find them."

"Hang in there, youngster. Stocker's got a good head on his shoulders. Why they put him in charge of this area."

"Buy you a drink when we hit the base after this?" Jim offered. "In the darkest, dirtiest bar we can find that serves the poison of your choice. I'm still looking forward to getting you drunk enough to talk about my Dad."

"Hey, I'm easy. It's a date," Neeler said with a wink. "Catch you on the other side."

Her link switched off.

Jim checked the time.

Just less than 40 minutes to go.

Jim stood and took a huge breath to settle before he walked onto the Bridge.

When he informed Spock and Scotty of their orders, he noticed several of the crew trade glances. But no one made a fuss or got jittery. Most just went back to work, including Spock and Scotty, looking for that loophole that could make all the difference in the world. Just in case it was needed.

_Trust. They trust everyone around them to do their best._

_Including me._

_I guess all I can do is pass that trust along. Stocker's going to get those answers here on time._

Just as he settled in his chair, the lift opened.

He knew it was Bones without even turning to look.

"I was up here a few minutes ago and talked to Spock. He filled me in," Bones said as he squatted down close so he could talk to Jim quietly. "We still on that timer?"

"Yes. We're waiting on the last of the answers to all those questions to come in."

"And if we don't turn them over, they're gonna blow up."

"So it seems."

"Well, then if you've got a minute, I should tell you that you won't have to worry about Halman and his crew anymore. I figure you're gonna hear about it pretty soon now. If we get through this."

"Oh? I_ had _noticed they hadn't shown up for a while. I assumed Rand had them under control."

"Actually," Bones said, sounding a little embarrassed, "they're in the brig. I had them all arrested."

"You... _what_?" Jim was honestly surprised, not expecting that. "_Why_?"

"Tell you later," McCoy said with a shrug. "Long story."

"Okay, _now _if we get blown up, I'm going to be really _pissed_," Jim said, giving McCoy a sharp glare. "I like surprises, not _cliffhangers_."

McCoy smiled at Jim, then stood and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Jim looked at the time. Twenty minutes.

Still, no message from Starfleet or Stocker.

At nine minutes, Uhura suddenly started working on her board.

"Captain! We have a data packet from Starfleet!"

"Is it the rest of the answers?" Jim asked, swiveling around to look at her, then Spock.

"Yes, Sir. We now have a complete set of answers for the_ Mesukh_."

"Uhura, hail the _Mesukh_ and--"

"Emergency hail from Commodore Stocker!" Uhura looked up in surprise. "He's ordering immediate viewscreen dialog!"

_He bypassed me? _Jim thought with surprise. _Ordering Uhura to open a channel straight to the Bridge?_

Stocker came on the viewscreen. He looked almost frantic. For Stocker.

"Captain! _Hold all communications_! Do _not _send the answer packet to the _Mesukh_! That's an order!"

Jim glanced at the time.

They had eight minutes left.

"Sir? Has something happened that--?"

"I have _no time_ to explain this, Captain," Stocker said solemnly. "I have issued immediate orders to all ships in the area that_ no one _is to send that data-packet, nor send any parts of it to the alien vessel."

Jim stood. "Sir, we're down to minutes here."

_What am I supposed to do with them? What's going on?_

"Do we go to shields? Weapons?"

_Even though they won't work?_

"No. _No_ weapons and _no_ shields," Stocker ordered gruffly. Then his expression softened just a touch, and he lowered his voice. "I had to trust you once, Captain. I need you to return the favor."

_He's not ordering me again to comply. _

_He already knows I will. And am._

_He's asking that I believe in him._

_And, I guess, I do._

"Yes, Sir," Jim said, nodding at Stocker's image. "Consider it done."

Stocker smiled, then closed the channel.

As the minutes ticked down, Jim spent them in his Command chair, Bones's hand on his shoulder.

At Spock's enquiring eyebrow, Jim nodded and gave him leave to count the last few seconds down.

"Five... four... three... two..."

The _Mesukh_'s countdown light flickered.

Suddenly, at its top speed, the _Mesukh_ backed away from the wall, and the _Enterprise_, and headed back to the wormhole.

"Well, they're a bunch of liars," Scotty said to himself as he watched the viewscreen, probably not realizing everyone could hear him on the quiet Bridge.

"They seem to be leaving," Spock added dryly, watching the vessel from his station.

"He knew?" Bones asked, stepping next to Jim as Jim stood.

"He's figured something out," Jim said quietly. "I have to admit, I have no idea what."

"Captain, Commodore Stocker hailing us again."

"Emergency?"

"Not flagged as such."

"Ready Room," Jim ordered. "Spock, Scotty, Bones? I want you there. Chekov, if that probe twitches, let us know."

"Aye, Keptain."

When Commodore Stocker's face appeared on-screen, they were all in the room. Spock, Scotty, and Bones standing out of the way.

"Commodore," Jim said with a relieved smile as he sat in his chair. "I have my First Officer, my Engineer, and my CMO listening in."

"Understood, Captain," Stocker said with a nod. "Might as well tell it once. I'm damned glad to see you all still here. You and that wall of ships. That would be a lot of Captains to lose at one shot."

"It would," Jim agreed. He didn't really know what to ask first, so chose the broadest question. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure how to explain this," Stocker said with a wry smile just touching the edge of his lips. "But I've had a funny feeling all along that the _Mesukh_ was not telling us the truth about itself or its origins. While some species may send out probes that tell little about themselves, unlike Humanity's first probes, there are usually some signs of who they are, and what they're like. The design of the probe itself was basic, and its shielding was more military-like than civilian."

Stocker shook his head.

"And the tests? That never rang true to me. In most cases, even an advanced species that doesn't have a Prime Directive will try to study a new species first. Make a small advancement toward contact. This probe did follow that type of approach at first, such as not firing back or destroying the ships that it knocked out of warp. And its invitation to you, along with its attempt to communicate with us and moving toward the largest, most populated area was a warning flag. Then to demand that we pass a lot of tests in order to be 'gifted' with technological wealth beyond our imagining? Or to terminate our contact if we fail? Even though we can't tell what kind of lifeform they are, and their culture, that was bringing up too many red flags for me. Which is why there was no way we were ready to have them come close to the Starbase. And I just felt they were lying about the purpose of the tests."

"So, they were lying about blowing us all up if we failed," Jim said. "What were the tests for?"

"If you were a militaristic species, and sent in a probe, and the probe was spotted and contacted too early for your liking, how better to get information on those in your new area of interest than to have that species hand it to you? Especially if they could hand over answers to scientific questions your own species was struggling with? For example, one of the mathematical problems had a lot to do with warp drive. And they never used warp. Which leads me to believe that they don't have the technology. The answer to their unsolved equations would practically give it to them, once they translated it back into something they could use. Same for a lot of the other problems they sent. Most were about harnessing power, warp, anti-matter, even a bit that hinted they suspect that beaming is possible."

"They lie about what they _could _and _would_ provide to a culture, _if_ they pass their tests," Jim said.

"Lie like a rug," Stocker said. "They lie, we hand them not only our _own _technological advances on a silver platter, but jump-start their technology as well. Wormhole use is damned impressive, but we don't really know that it's _their_ wormhole and that they're in control of it. Or even that this is a repeatable experiment for them which would give them an advantage in case of warfare or planned invasion. If we can't pass the test, we're weaker than them, so no danger of creating a wormhole and following them home. If we do pass the test... well, I have a plan I need you to follow up on."

"Certainly, Sir," Jim said.

"I'm putting together a packet of answers to their questions," Stocker said. "Only, while looking legitimate, it'll be pure gibberish. Or, it will contain answers that lead them to dead ends. Nothing in it will be helpful in any true scientific way. At the end of the six hours it'll take to get back to its wormhole, and home, I want the _Enterprise_ to send it the corrupt data packet. Through the same channel they expected us to send the real data pack in. Only, do it minutes before it's due to enter the wormhole. Then, I expect we'll know for sure."

"What do you expect to happen?" Jim asked, intrigued.

"If I'm right, they'll send the data packet back through the wormhole, and destroy the probe. Hoping to do us damage."

"You believe that if we'd have sent them the correct packet, they would have taken us all out?"

"I do," Stocker said grimly. "Take all intel from your future enemies you can get. If they're bigger than you, make them afraid to follow you home. If they're weaker than you, put them on the invasion list, and study their data before you invade. If you can do it by trickery, by promising what you have no intention of delivering, all the better."

"What was that last red flag that tipped you over the edge?" Jim asked. He thought he knew the answer, but wanted to be sure.

"Threatening to destroy a possible ally, just for being less advanced," Stocker said. "And when the answers came back from Starfleet, I realized they all had militaristic uses. I'd been so focused on finding the answers that I continued to assume they already knew the answers for themselves."

"I think," Jim said with a smile, "that you've certainly proven that Starfleet didn't make a mistake by putting you in charge, Commodore."

"I guess, in about six hours, we'll find out how off base I may be," Stocker admitted. "I'm going to order all our ships to stand down once the probe gets far enough away that we can reform the wall if it returns. I'm fairly confident we know what its top speed is now, and that's not warp. I want all the ships to stand in place until the probe, and hopefully the wormhole, is gone. I'll be in touch with the corrupt packet, and will be on-line when you send it to them. Until then, keep your eyes open and stay ready."

"Yes, Sir."

"Then, when you and the _Arrowman _return home, I have a tow job for you both. We'd do it ourselves, but our tugs are busy, and won't operate well that far outside of the Starbase.

"A tow job?" Jim asked.

"Yes. Even though essentially gutted, Captain Sanin was able to get the _Merrimac_ out of the Docking Module and set up between the Starbase and the alien vessel," Stocker said with a smile. "Her ship and over three dozen other ships. All civilian. They all volunteered to set up a second line of defense, in case the probe made it through the wall of ships at your end. Her ship's warp is offline, and its impulse worked just long enough to get through the Docking Bay doors and a good distance away from the Starbase. The _Merrimac_ has no warp, now no impulse, and no phasers. But she still has photon torpedoes and an intact hull. Captain Sanin said that if the ship couldn't be a real weapon of war, it could at least look the part."

Scotty made a noise, and Jim glanced over. Scotty had raised his hand as if asking for permission to talk, and he looked anxious.

"Go ahead, Scotty," Jim said, curious.

Scotty stood quickly and went to lean over Jim's shoulder so the Commodore could see him.

"Pardon the interruption, Sir, but if I could get a good look at her, and work with her Engineer, I may be able to jury-rig the impulse engines into working just a few minutes more. I think I know why they conked out. She'll be safer if we can get her to limp back inside, rather than to have two Starships try to tow her back in and hit all the docks right."

"You may certainly contact her and her Engineer and volunteer your services," Stocker said. "I would encourage you to do so. I don't think Captain Sanin's very interested in being dragged home if she can come in on her own."

"I can certainly understand that. I'll set up a com-line for them," Jim said. "Since we're waiting here anyway, we might as well be of some use."

"And one more thing, before we get back to this situation," Stocker said. "You said your CMO is present?"

"Sir," Jim said. He waved Bones up, who took Scotty's place.

"Sir?" Bones asked.

"I'll have Starfleet Security on hand when the _Enterprise_ docks. Please make sure your prisoners are ready for transport. They, and United-Data, are _very_ interested in talking to them. They will, of course, expect a full report from you by then, routed from my office."

"Yes, Sir. I'll have my full report sent to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Doctor. Captain, anything else we need to cover?"

"Not at the moment, Sir." Jim said.

"Good. I'll get that order out to the ships forming the wall to stand down, but stay in place. Let's not push fate by having them run those engines that way any longer than they have to. Stocker out."

As soon as Stocker was gone, Jim turned to look at Bones. Scotty, and even Spock, were looking at Bones with surprise and curiosity.

Which must have mirrored Jim's.

"You had the United-Data news-crew _arrested_?" Scotty asked. He looked half surprised, half amused, and totally entertained by the idea. "What did they _do_?"

"Uh... probably something along the lines of corporate espionage... and uh, spying on Starfleet." McCoy shrugged sheepishly. "Something like that."

Jim felt his jaw drop open in surprise. "What? What _did _they do that had you...?"

"Well, you and Spock remember those first few biological forms that _Mesukh_, or whatever they're called now, created to try to communicate with us? How they were bits and pieces of various individual's DNA that blew off of Jim?"

"Yes," Jim said, still not seeing any connection to the news-crew, let alone their arrest.

"Well, we all get stuff stuck on us, and most of us shed DNA, dead skin and hair and such, into the ship's air system. So Jim having bits of others on him isn't unexpected, even though we have great air filters. Stuff gets by. Except that what I saw mixed in with the other misused body parts was Andorian. And it bothered me until I realized what I'd seen when typing up my report. We don't have any Andorians on the ship. Haven't since Doctor Sessket transferred off, not long after our trip to Babel. I didn't even see any logged in as passengers since then.

"So I contacted the CMO on Starbase 12 while you all were getting ready for interstellar war, and asked about the Starbase's crew and civilian population. You know Andorians don't socialize with non-Andorians all that much, and according to their records, the Andorians on Starbase 12 are few and far between. And they work and live in the lower levels of the Starbase, and don't have a lot of reason to be on the same decks Jim was on."

Bones shrugged. "Plus, I know he's had at least one shower since he got back on the ship, since we--"

"_Bones_..." Jim growled, trying to forestall more detail about that.

"Oh, yeah," Bones said with with a tinge of embarassment on his face. "So I got to wondering where that Andorian DNA came from. I tried to talk the news-crew into the MedBay for a checkup, but even Rand couldn't convince them. Sooo... I snuck a scan at all three, and Yandel, the Orion? Her readings were flaky. So I _ordered_ them into MedBay, and while Burrows was okay with it, Halman and Yandel pitched a fit. Rand backed me up and I decided to have Security bring them into MedBay, citing security reasons. Come to find out Yandel's not Orion, but a _modified Andorian_. And she's got some sort of computer set-up planted in her skull, where her antenna muscles and ligaments should be.

"Here she is, on a Starship, wandering around like she's a kid in a candy store, touching things she shouldn't. Getting a look at stations and monitors... either she's recording whatever info on the ship she can get, or she and the camera tech are copying vids and pictures _before _Starfleet gets a chance to go over all the stuff for security issues. Of course, she may have been spying for another news organization, to get a jump on anything they were going to hit the news-feeds with. Rand says they're pretty competitive that way, so it's possible it was more corporate espionage than military."

Jim felt genuinely stunned at the news. "And... _no one_ reported this to me?"

"Oh, _I_ did, just before the countdown thing," Bones said. "It just happened that last hour, and I asked security to hold it back because... you all were kinda busy with maybe us blowing up and stuff. Rand is working up the report, and informed the Starbase Security."

"A very commendable attention to detail, Doctor," Spock said, actually looking a bit impressed. "I will admit that such detail escaped me at the time."

"Well, it's a medical thing," Bones said, shrugging again. "You were busy doing your thing while we were on that ship. I was doing mine."

Jim shook his head. "Well, with that, we all need to get back to doing those things. We have... about five hours here until we can send that corrupt data packet and see what happens. We all have things to do."

As Spock and Scotty left for the Bridge, Bones held back.

"Jim, how're you doing? We've all been up for hours without sleep now. Do you need--"

"Honestly, Bones, I'm fine," Jim said with a sigh. "I don't think I could sleep now if I had to."

"Yeah, adrenaline rushes will do that. Let me know."

After Bones left, Jim had second thoughts about some coffee and took a moment to fix himself some before sitting back down and reading everything that was waiting for him.

_At least I have a reprieve on that documentary,_ Jim thought with satisfaction. _Maybe I'll get lucky, and this investigation will kill off the whole idea of me being any part of this recruitment thing._

_So far, this has been a pretty good day._

_That would just be more icing on the cake._

About five or so hours later, minutes before the probe could disappear back into its wormhole, Jim sent the _Mesukh_ the fake data packet given to him by Stocker's people.

Seconds after receiving it, the probe blew up.

Spectacularly.

And the wormhole collapsed.

The _Enterprise _and the _Arrowman_ were ordered back to the Starbase by Starfleet, who had taken back command from Stocker. Most of the various Starfleet ships that had made up the wall followed them back, with a select few sent to monitor the space around the now disappeared wormhole to ensure that as soon as possible, Stocker could send out the message that the Orion-Vulcan trade route was back up and running.

All with no lives lost. No ships lost. No Starbase lost. But a _ton _of reports to write, theories to discuss about who or what the visitors were, and where they'd come from.

Jim didn't know if there would be another set of ships sent out to patrol this area as well as the Neutral Zones, or if Starfleet would decide that this probe was a one off occurrence, from beings sending them out at random. Maybe, from all the data they'd been able to collect, Starfleet and the Federation could figure out their next steps. Jim would have to wait and see.

Scotty got himself and some of his team ready to beam over to the _Merrimac_ so he could join in on the fun of getting their impulse back on-line.

Which Captain Sanin had been uncharacteristically appreciative of.

No Starfleet Captain liked to have their ship towed home.

It was a pride thing, which Jim totally understood.

But the best part was it could all be done while Jim and Bones slept like the dead for a few hours.

Which they did.

***

Two days after the explosion of the _Mesukh_, the Orion-Vulcan trade route was back up and running. The _Arrowman_ was ready to leave Starbase 12 in the morning, and the _Merrimac_'s leaving drydock was almost back on schedule, thanks to Scotty's help. The _Enterprise_ could then dock itself, and load up the multiple-ton of supplies waiting for it, and start some serious R&R time for the crew who'd not gotten their fair share on Pattor. Along with all the engine work Scotty had planned, which was Scotty's R&R this trip. He seemed to be looking forward to it.

Jim, once again sitting outside of Commodore Stocker's office, again admired the natural decor. It was really growing on him.

And while he still had a birthday party to arrange for tomorrow night, he was hoping to get some other questions answered at this meeting. One was what had happened to the United-Data's news-team once Security had taken them off the _Enterprise_. Admiral Roberts had been a bit closed-mouthed about that when he'd had a moment to check in with her and give his verbal reports. It'd also given him a chance to bitch, nicely, to her about the whole recruitment project again, and especially that poster. She had assured him that she was busy working problem behind the scenes.

She agreed that whoever in Public Relations had okayed that picture of him should face charges. It was embarrassing, as was the slogan.

The last that he'd heard of any of that had been later this morning, when he'd gotten a strange message from Admiral Roberts that Commodore Stocker would fill him in on the progress of several enquiries. Quickly followed by Stocker's order for this meeting. Since Jim wasn't the only Captain she oversaw, he figured it wasn't important enough that they'd needed another meeting.

Which Jim didn't mind, as he didn't know when he'd get to see Stocker again before he left.

Jim had just gone back to sorting details of Bones's birthday party in his head when Stocker's secretary indicated he could go in.

As he was leaving, Yeoman Rand was coming out.

"Good afternoon, Captain!" Rand said pleasantly. Rand had followed the United-Data team back onto the station when Security had taken them, toting her belongings with her. All before Jim had had a chance to take his leave of her.

"Afternoon, Yeoman," Jim said with a smile. "I'm glad to see you're back at work with Commodore Stocker."

"Glad to be back, actually," Rand said with a smile. "Not that you don't need a good Yeoman, Sir, but Commodore Stocker needs me more."

"I can only guess at how much," Jim said. "You did a fantastic job, and I want to _thank you_ for being the roadblock I needed with that news-crew. If I ever feel the need for a Yeoman, I'll have to see if I can steal you away from Commodore Stocker."

"You're welcome to _try_, Captain," Rand said, her eyes now drifting down to her ever-present over-large PADD. "I like the _Enterprise,_ but, frankly, Starbase 12 is more of a challenge. I love a good challenge. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

"Of course," Jim said with a nod as she instantly turned away, clearly already working on her next assignment for Commodore Stocker.

Inside the Commodore's office, Jim stopped short in surprise. Stocker was behind his desk, but in front of it, in a visitors chair, was Maria Burrows, the United-Data video tech. She was dressed in a smart business suit, which suited her a lot better than the United-Data work uniform she'd worn on the ship.

"Captain, please come in and sit," Stocker said, waving toward the last empty chair in front of him. "We need to catch you up."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Jim said as he sat.

"Captain," Stocker said, "I know you've met Maria Burrows before, but I'll let her introduce herself once again."

Burrows turned and held out her hand for Jim to shake. Her voice was a surprise, as Jim realized he'd never heard her speak. Her voice was higher and softer than he'd thought it would be.

"Please to finally meet you properly, Captain," Burrows said with a smile. "Let me start at the beginning. I'm not a video-tech, but actually a first-tier editor for United-Data. Which, truth be told in United-Data speak, means I write a lot of the stories that hit the news-feeds. Not many journalists actually have both the talent to collect data, select the important facts, and then translate or compose it for broadcast. I get the stories that other editors think need to be redone from scratch, are missing the point, are misleading or flat out wrong, and need to be re-written. By me. But under the reporter's or journalist's by-lines."

"They let others claim your work?" Jim asked, surprised.

"It's their work, Captain. They collect it and do the interviews," Burrows said with a shake of her head. "They get the advantage of having their work look good. I'm an introvert by nature and have always found it very rewarding to stay in the background. They get the fame and the glory, and I get to do what I love to do and keep my privacy. A condition that I, being in the journalistic field, understand the value of. And I've had some success."

"Don't let her fool you, Captain," Stocker said, nodding at Burrows. "I've discovered that many of the award-winning documentaries and stories have been her work. Under many other's by-lines."

"As it happens," Burrows continued, "United-Data had become concerned that there was espionage going on. The last few years, many of our exclusive stories were being leaked and published just before we'd gotten our original pieces ready." Burrows shook her head. "After some internal investigation, they still weren't sure where in the process the leaks were happening. Was it on the field? In the editing process? The approval process? Even some video that we had exclusive control of leaked out. You can imagine how frustrating that's been for our organization."

"I can only imagine," Jim said.

"Now that I'm an empty nester, Captain, I've been having second thoughts about keeping my obscurity. I needed the privacy and the ability to stay in one spot while raising four children. To keep my name out of the spotlight and let them live outside of any public interest. But my youngest just left the nest, straight for Starfleet Academy, to join an older sister, who is one year ahead of him. I think they're old enough to weather their mother's new interest in claiming her share of the glory in her work."

Burrows smiled. "When this agreement with Starfleet came across our desks, I volunteered for it. But they asked me to do something else instead. And that was to accompany Bingro Halman and his assistant-girlfriend, Yandel, on this job. They wanted me to see for myself all the people he talked to, all the conversations he had, all the video and audio that was taken before Starfleet filtered it. And if anyone published anything that came from his documentary before we could actually present it, then I would be able to tell them where and when in the process it slipped out. For reasons they didn't disclose to me, they suspected Halman was the one selling data on the side."

"A corporate detective?" Jim said. "That's quite a change in job title for you."

"And I accepted for a reason," Burrows said. "I'd also act as backup. If Halman _was_ involved, then I'd be the one to inherit his project. Halman will be busy in the near future with not only corporate security, but with Starfleet Security as well. Yandel was found to have some restricted pictures from the _Enterprise_'s Bridge that Starfleet wouldn't normally allow published." Burrows tapped her head, signally the place Bones said Yandel had had some sort of computer implant where her antennae would have been. "I've officially inherited his documentary project."

"Oh, congratulations," Jim said guardedly.

"Now, Captain, Ms. Burrows," Stocker said, looking at the time. "I need to attend some crew meetings, but please stay and use my office for further discussion."

When Stocker rose, Jim did as well.

"Thank you for the use of your Yeoman," Jim said. "Rand did a phenomenal job."

"Glad to hear it, Captain," Stocker said with a smile. "I've found her immensely helpful, and I've come to depend on her. I'm delighted to have her back. If you don't mind walking me out of my office for a few words, then I'll leave you and Ms. Burrows to your own discussions."

"Yes, of course."

Jim glanced at Burrows, who nodded pleasantly and settled back in her chair.

Once they were in the waiting room, and the office door closed behind him, Stocker walked over to the side, out of earshot of his secretary.

"Captain, a word of advice. When you talk to Burrows, be as truthful as you can be. And listen to her. Admiral Roberts and I spent several long hours discussing this new promotion that Starfleet's Public Relation's Department has sold those in power. But as you can see by the first poster they sent out, it leaves a lot of room for improvement. Starfleet is having second thoughts on the whole project, led by Robert's scorn for the whole focus of the project. It leans too far away from the concept of inclusion and teamwork that Starfleet's always used in the past."

"I understand completely and agree one hundred percent," Jim said with feeling.

"While I don't think that at this point the project will be canceled as a whole, since there is going to be some inherent interest in the anniversary coming up, that doesn't mean you shouldn't have a say in how that focus can change. I think Burrows has some good ideas. With her two children at the Academy, she has a vested interest in seeing her children's co-workers be those who are not only qualified, but those who truly want to be out in the black, making a difference."

Jim nodded.

_I'm not sure how much say I can get in this, but at least **someone** is now asking what **I** want._

_He seems to think Burrows will listen._

"I'm willing to try working with her," Jim said.

"Good. Can't ask more than that." Stocker held out his hand. Jim shook it. "If I don't see you again, it was nice to see you now, Captain. Good luck to you and your crew."

"Thank you, Sir. It's been nice to meet you again as well."

As Stocker left, Jim went back into Stocker's office.

Burrows gave him a smile. She turned her chair to face him as he sat down.

"First, Captain, may I call you Jim? Please call me Maria."

"Of course, Maria. I see we may be working closely together in the future."

"Good. Now let me ask my first question. If_ you_ were to do this documentary any way_ you_ wanted to, how would _you _do it? What would you want everyone out there to know about you? What would you like to say to all those people, young and old, who sometimes wonder if they'd fit into Starfleet? And be _honest_, please." Burrows said with a smile. "Pretend I'm your mother and tell me what you _really_ want. I promise I'm _listening_."

Jim felt a bit stunned, a part of him wondering if she was playing him in some way.

But his gut told him she was deadly serious.

He thought about it for a moment. It was _so _tempting...

So, he told her the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

***

Chapter Seven

***

"_And_? _What _did you tell her?" Bones asked anxiously, forgetting the fork full of salad that had almost made its way to his mouth. Alone in their cabin for dinner, across from each other at the small table, Jim had just gone through most of his part of their regular routine of 'how did your day go?' stories.

"I told her I didn't want any of it to be about me," Jim answered around chewing his own dinner. "I told her that I'm a flash in the pan. People will forget about me and move on to others who make the headlines. What I _want_ is for Starfleet to feel open and welcoming. To know that while a lot of Starfleet members are the top in their fields, that every job makes a difference. A cook can keep a ship running just as much as an engineer. A Yeoman can be in the right place, at the right time, to save a ship. That those who don't feel like they fit in at home can find a place on a ship to fit in, in such a huge team. That anyone _can_ make a difference."

Jim grinned and took another bite. "To just not _say_ it in a way that makes me look like an idiot. Show off the diversity! How our differences _make_ the difference. And focus on the kids. I told her how excited Peter was to see the Bridge when I first met him. Kids don't know what they want to be for sure when they grow up. They usually aren't so fascinated by a job they've already picked out that they can't change their minds in a few months. Kids want to know the basics."

Jim ticked the points off on his fingers. "'_Where would I live? Who would I live with? Where would I eat? What's the food like? What if I get sick? What if I miss my parents? Can I make friends? Is MedBay scary? Is space travel scary? What if I want to go home? What if I won't know what to do?_' Kids want to know that they'll be okay when they grow up, that they'll know what to do before being thrown into new situations. That other crewmen have felt the same way they do, and are there to help. That their coworkers are not competition."

Jim pointed his fork at Bones. "_That's_ what the documentary _should be_ about. Showing the kids when, where, and how their life would be like at the Academy, then out in space. Maybe when they grow up, it wouldn't feel like they're jumping off a cliff into the darkness by taking that first step. Then, as they get older, set up some sort of public outreach, where they can go online on any public data system and talk to a Starfleet crewman. Ask questions about specific jobs from people who've actually done those jobs. Take volunteers, not trained Public Relations people. Let adults ask adults what questions they need to, that aren't classified of course, rather than having to take that huge step to look for, and talk to, a recruiter. I'm not saying cut them out, but put in another level of exploration for those who might wonder once in a while."

"That recruiter business is a big step," McCoy admitted with a nod. He held his fingers a few centimeters apart. "I was this close to bailing out of that first meeting with one."

"I never even bothered with one," Jim said with a shrug. "Lots of posted information, but no one real to talk to without walking into an office. Not like I got to talk to Pike. I also told her how Sam and I felt. I think he wants to talk about _Dad_, and maybe about Mom. But not about himself or his family. Not about me. We both want to hear _other _people talk about Dad. We want to hear _their_ stories, even if there aren't any new stories left. There were a lot of people on the _Kelvin_. There were a lot of heroes that never got the attention my Dad did."

"So, what did Burrows say to all this?"

"She agreed," Jim said happily. "With _all_ of it. She suggested that maybe while we're in dock, we can organize some field trips on the _Enterprise_ for some of the school classes. Small groups, and let them see the ship where they could live one day. Visit the Bridge. Engineering, MedBay, the labs... everything we can let them see. And let them ask questions. These kids have lived on this base, maybe even were born here, and how many of them have actually seen a ship on the inside? Give them an idea of what the reality is like, and maybe they'll decide it's a possible future for them after all."

"Think she can make it happen?"

"She says she's got the power to make the call. And she, Stocker, Rand and I are going to meet with the Starbase teachers in a couple of days, see what permissions we need from parents, and maybe get a few field trips onboard the_ Enterprise_ before we leave." Jim smiled. "And maybe talk Captain Sanin of the _Merrimac_ into approving a few tours of_ her_ ship before she leaves. As well as some of the other ships. Starfleet has a ton of different ships, of all makes and models, doing all sorts of important jobs. See if we can get Stocker into talking them into joining the cause."

"Sounds like a good start," Bones said, starting back on his forgotten dinner. "Let's hope she can pull it off. Especially if she can be the one to work with Sam. And talking about your Dad... You going to hook up with Captain Neeler like you promised?"

"I need to contact her again. We've both been a bit busy, and haven't had the time to arrange anything."

As if on cue, the comm buzzed.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk." It was Trimbul, on Beta duty.

Jim sighed and wiped his mouth with his napkin as he got up to hit the comm.

"Kirk here."

"Captain Neeler is requesting a private channel."

Jim gave Bones a smile and said, "Put her on, Lieutenant."

Neeler's voice came through clearly, but there was a lot of noise in the background. It sounded like a bar.

"Hey, youngster, you got an evening free?"

"Yes, I do, actually," Jim said with a grin. "Did you find that seedy bar where I can buy you a drink in exchange for some stories?"

"Oh, better than that," Neeler said. "There's this bar down in the living module, for the locals, that hardly anyone goes to. It's a dive, and the food sucks, but we eat it anyway. Drinks are even worse. But it's where the civilian Captains hang out. And more than a few of us 'Fleet types. But it's for _Captain's_ only. No First Officers. No crew. Also, no dates, significant others, spouses, bond-mates, soul-bonded-others, or other non-Captain life forms. And you have to be_ invited_ to join this club. Especially if you're 'Fleet, since the civilian Captains rule here. And _I'm_ inviting you. Sanin says_ 'hi'_ by the way, and she seconded your nomination. Says she owes you for the blessing that is something called a '_Scotty_'. She wants him. Badly. She says maybe if she gets you drunk, you'll lose him to her in a card game."

Neeler laughed. "Yeah, she's gonna hold her breath on that one. Anyway, none of the civvies voted no, so you're a new member, if you're interested, and have the time. You'll recognize most of them from Stocker's party. I tell better stories to groups, if you don't mind everyone hearing them. Just don't show up in uniform. We dress down for nights like this."

Jim glanced at Bones, who gave him a thumbs up.

"What's the name and location?" Jim asked with a grin. "I'm on my way."

"It's called the '_Aft Head'_. You can't miss it. Everyone avoids it like the plague on this level."

Jim took the info, signed off, then headed to their closet for his worst civilian clothes.

"Just make sure you're sober, and out of any detention, by tomorrow afternoon," Bones said, finishing his dinner. "_You _planned my birthday party, I expect _you_ to be there, hungover or not."

"I will be," Jim assured him with a laugh, pulling on some old jeans and a dark, ratty t-shirt. "No way am I missing it. Not after all the work I put into setting it up."

"_Don't_ use the crew in place of chips," Bones added with a teasing smile. "We _need _Scotty. Now, _Spock_ on the other hand..."

Jim came over to give Bones a huge kiss. One with a lot of tongue.

"Sure," Bones said with a sigh after it was over. "Get me all _horny, _then _leave_. If I end up humping your pillow tonight, it's your fault. Have fun, Kid."

"I plan on harvesting a ton of new stories. May take me all night," Jim said with a smile as he headed for their cabin door. "Don't wait up, Old Man."

"Not a chance."

"Liar."

With a jaunt in his step that he hadn't had in a while, Jim made his way to the docking port.

And to a whole new group of Captains he hoped would be future friends.

***

"Hey, Doc! Happy Birthday!"

McCoy looked through the crowd just outside the _Enterprise'_s docking port and into the Starbase itself. He saw Sulu headed toward him. Both of them were dressed in civilian clothes, but Hikaru was carrying his bag with him. McCoy noticed Hikaru's huge smile was echoed in his eyes.

"Thanks, Hikaru," McCoy said with his own smile as he walked up to meet him. "I see your days off are over? You're not going to miss my birthday party this evening? I was hoping you'd bring Ben and Demora."

"My days off are over, but I have permission to sleep off the ship until we leave, so I'll be taking off right after my shift each day until then," Sulu said. "Your party is right after dinner, right? We plan on being there. After your party, Nyota's going to come over and babysit Demora while Ben and I have a night on the town."

"Ah. Planning on cutting out before it gets raunchy, huh?" McCoy teased.

"Yeah, a bit," Hikaru admitted.

"Don't blame you," McCoy said happily. "And we don't plan on having it last all that long, anyway. Jim says he has plans for later. So, I'll see you there."

They nodded to each other at parting, and McCoy turned to make his way through the Starbase to the reserved room Jim had booked for his birthday up in the Recreational dome. It apparently had a bird's eye view of the forest, from stories up. McCoy knew that Jim was dying to go camping down there. Which was fine with McCoy, but not exactly the way he'd wanted to spend his birthday. He was afraid that sleeping on the hard, real-dirt ground in sleeping bags might make him wake up feeling more than his newly-earned 35 years.

_Thirty-five years old,_ McCoy thought as he wove his way through the crowds moving back and forth from ships to the Starbase lifts. He started in the central hub's direction.

_Where does the time go? I'm halfway through my thirties to forty already. And that's halfway to eighty. And I can't even say it's **not** the years bothering me, but the mileage. Even though I've got more than a few parsecs under my belt, that's for sure. _

He didn't actually feel old. But it was clear his teenage years were long gone, and it was obvious he wasn't in his twenties anymore. And seeing John even older made him wonder if he'd age as gracefully. So, while he was happy with his life as it was, he felt a bit wary of how the numbers were starting to add up.

_Well, if anyone's going to keep me young, it'll be Jim. And this private dinner before the party was a nice idea. It's been a while since we had one of those._

As he made his way to the lifts, he glanced around the large boarding area and saw the infamous poster again, and he sighed.

_This is going to be a long few months until we get this January anniversary nonsense over with. Hopefully, Burrows will be able to pull some strings and give Jim some peace over this after all. And if we're working and busy, it could all blow over without us being there to see it unfold. Hopefully._

The good news had been to see Jim coming home in the early hours of the morning, a massive smile on his face. He'd been just a tad tipsy, and stank like a gutter, but he had jabbered away about all the stories Neeler had told him of his Dad. She'd allowed him to record them so Jim could send them to Sam. Which meant McCoy would get to hear them as well. He had bought a round, the other Captains had taken turns buying a round, and Jim had come back with a comm full of numbers from new Captain friends. Ones he could meet up with and talk shop with at a shit-load of ports up and down the Orion-Vulcan route. A lot of them Jim hadn't even met in person yet, but who would be told by _this_ group that Captain Kirk was actually an okay guy.

And that he would buy you a drink if you knew his Dad.

_If nothing else, that's the best thing anyone could have given me for my birthday,_ McCoy thought happily._ Jim feeling like he fits in somewhere, and has other kids to play with. He's sorely needed that._

_Although, our credit account may take a hit over it. George Kirk was a good man and seemingly liked by everyone._

_That's going to be a **lot **of drinks._

After sleeping like the dead for most of the morning, Jim had begged off anything else so he could get the last of McCoy's birthday party set up. Apparently, there were still some last-minute arrangements to make, as Jim had said there was a scheduling problem. Now, just in time for a restaurant dinner before the party, McCoy had gotten the message to head on down, and the location.

After choosing his deck designation, and the computer telling him which lift he needed to wait for, he joined others in a fairly crowded lift. McCoy was glad of his current obscurity. No one paid him any particular attention or knew him from Adam. Even after all the fuss with the arrest warrant. After all the planned publicity in January, that could change a lot. For both of them.

The lift took several stops on its way down, but it didn't take long before McCoy's stop came up.

After a few minutes, he pulled out his comm for directions, afraid that he'd taken a wrong corridor somewhere. He finally found the private restaurant and buzzed for entrance. Once inside, he saw a narrow, curved room, with the outside wall transparent and overlooking what must be a hundred stories over the vast, forested area at the flat bottom of the recreation dome. There was even a lake in view, and the artificial border that resembled mountains in the distance. There were several tables set around, all empty, and some booths at one end and a bar at the other. The kitchen behind the bar was producing some appetizing aromas already. The whole place was done in warm colors and soft lighting so that the view was its main feature.

Jim had said it was a small place that rented out for private parties. Their dinner would be here, just the two of them, until their guests arrived.

But, to McCoy's surprise, Jim didn't seem to be alone at the cozy table for four next to the window.

"Ah, Bones, you're here," Jim said with a clearly distracted smile. He didn't even look up as he made faces at the infant he was holding.

The infant looked Human, and was about nine months old, dressed in soft green pants and a fuzzy-soft long green tunic. Its bare feet were planted on the tabletop, and it was chewing on one finger while looking at Jim's face with fascination. With dark eyes and a darker mop of hair, the child was adorable. There was some sort of small crib on wheels next to the table.

"Who's this?" McCoy asked with surprise, coming up to look closer at the dark-haired infant. "One of the owner's kids?"

"Nope," Jim said, bouncing the infant up and down a bit, and getting a grin in return. "Found it on the way up here, asleep in that mobile crib thing. Parked by a potted plant. No one was around it, and it looked cute, so figured I'd bring it up here with me and--"

"_What?!"_ McCoy interjected, almost forgetting to keep his voice down and his tone even. He didn't want to startle the infant. He reached out to carefully take the infant from Jim. "You _took_...! Someone's_ baby!_ Are you out of your ever-lovin' _mind_?"

"What?" Jim asked innocently as he handed the infant over to McCoy. "He's safe. It's a boy, by the way."

"You should have just stayed with him! You _did_ contact security, right?" McCoy asked softly, keeping a fake smile on his face. He brought the little boy up to his shoulder, looking him over for any problems. The infant smiled back which, strangely, reminded him of someone.

"Why? He's just as safe here as he would be anywhere else," Jim said with a shrug as he stood and made another face at the infant. Noticing Jim's approach, the infant giggled around the finger in his mouth. "Besides, I think he wants to meet his other mama."

Confusion, and a newly born fear for his husband's sanity, fought for McCoy's attention, along with the nagging suspicion that all wasn't quite as it seemed. He juggled the little boy a bit, holding the little warm body close.

"_What_ are you talking about? We need to contact security right _away_ and find out who he is and where he _belongs_!"

"Oh, I already know who he is," Jim said with a grin. "His name is Lay-Nard."

"Lay...Nard...?" McCoy heard his voice drift off as it all hit him at once. He knew exactly who this infant reminded him of. He knew _who_ this infant was. He looked at the happy little face with surprise.

"_Barrille _and _Lomar's _baby?" McCoy asked, stunned.

"Prince _Lay-Nard_, the future King of Gemarisa and Dachlydia. He..." Jim said, poking the infant in the stomach gently, getting another giggle, "is that little egg that cost you a lot of worry and a good portion of your liver about a year and a half ago."

"_Oh_."

McCoy could only look at the infant in shock. Chuckling, Jim moved behind McCoy and pulled out a chair from the table. McCoy sat carefully.

Very, very carefully.

Never taking his eyes off the infant.

"Hello, Len!"

McCoy looked up, and saw Barrille standing beside him. Surprised, he moved to stand, but she placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated.

She looked a bit older now. No longer the young girl he'd survived a crash and had tramped through a jungle with. Or the young mother he'd had to talk into giving up her egg in order to save it. She looked like a young Queen, with her fine clothing and her dark hair in a complicated set of braids set in a knot at the back of her head. She looked regal.

Grinning, Barrille leaned over and gave him and her son a huge hug.

McCoy felt himself tearing up. He hugged her close, careful of the infant.

"Great to see you, Darlin'! I've missed you!"

"Missed you too, Len!" Barrille said happily. She let him go and sat back on a chair Jim had pulled up beside McCoy. "I'm so _glad _to have caught up with you. We just got in, and have to leave tomorrow morning, but I wouldn't have missed this for the world!"

"He's grown so much!" McCoy said happily, realizing just how close to actually shedding a tear he really was. He sniffled as he looked Lay-Nard over once again. "I know it's only been a few months since the last baby pictures you sent. But I keep forgetting how quickly they grow. He has _hair_ now."

"Yeah. Finally." Barrille chuckled happily. "It came in quick. He looks so different."

"How did you get all the way out _here_?" McCoy asked, shifting Lay-Nard over to Barrille as the infant smiled and started reaching for his mother. He didn't want to give him back, but if he had all evening he hoped he'd get more time to cuddle with the kid. Maybe even hold him during a nap.

"Lomar and I have taken Regent positions in our government, to try to get both planets aligned and on track _before_ Lay-Nard is old enough to be crowned King," Barrille said. "So now we have to travel a lot. Sometimes further out than our own system. This is Lay-Nard's first trip off Dachlydia. Jim let me know you were headed to Starbase 12, so I pulled some royal strings to get here by your birthday."

McCoy grinned, reaching over to let the infant take his finger in his tiny hand.

"This is the_ best_ present yet, Barrille. I was hoping we'd get to visit someday. But I figured the kid would probably be a teenager before we could arrange it."

"Had to make the trip so he could meet his host-mother," Barrille said with a grin at her son, who turned to her and patted her cheeks with both hands.

McCoy sat back, feeling a bit of awe at seeing the infant. "I _can't believe_ I carried this little one inside me for all those days. Seems like a lifetime ago."

"I know. It does." Barrille looked at McCoy with a shy smile. "You saved both of our lives. You and Nyota. And I'll be telling Lay-Nard that every year on his birthday, as he grows up. So he won't forget who his host-mother is, and the lady who was willing to sacrifice herself to keep him safe."

McCoy felt warm and teary again.

"Nyota will be joining us in a few minutes," Jim said, looking at his comm with a grin. "She'll be joining us for your birthday dinner. Then we've got friends and co-workers coming in for the party afterward. Which won't run too late."

"Then, I want to drag you all to my ship!" Barrille said happily. "I can't wait to show you around. And I can't wait to see the crew again!" Suddenly, she scrunched up her nose and held her son up to sniff his stomach. "But I'd better get him changed first. He's just got whiffy."

She stood and put Lay-Nard in the bassinet and wheeled him to the 'fresher by the bar.

McCoy watched her leave.

"I was hoping my timing wasn't off, in trying to get them here," Jim said, sitting in Barrille's seat next to him. He leaned toward McCoy. "I thought you'd like to--"

McCoy grabbed Jim's shirt in both hands and brought him in for a kiss that not only shut him up, but took both their breaths away and left them both a little flushed.

Then, when Jim had gained his breath back, McCoy pulled him back in and kissed him again. Just as hard.

For some responses, for the deepest and most heartfelt ones, there were just no words that would work.

But McCoy knew a lot of other ways to express all the overwhelming feelings of warmth, love, happiness, and appreciation that was churning up inside him and making him feel all teary.

And _some_ of those would have to wait until they got to their cabin, and their own bed, once again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a bit of sup-plot from the Babylon Five episode 'A Day in the Strife'. Stocker comes to the same conclusion about his probe that Sheridan did about theirs. Both decided not to send their answers, and both probes self-destruct when those answers are provided when the probe is at a safe distance.
> 
> Many thanks to my Beta! They've been a lot of help! Any and all mistakes are mine, as I mess with the story after all her hard work. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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